Dirty Seduction

ROSIE

I could barely walk on monday morning my pussy was so damn sore, even after a good day of rest. Lola laughed as I approached her in the library at lunchtime, because she knew exactly what I’d been up to.

“Yeah, ouch,” I said.

“Was it good, though?”

“Yeah, it was incredible. Hurts now, but it was worth it.” I cracked a grin. “Very worth it.”

She winked as I sat down beside her. “You’ll get used to the after pain, I promise. And pelvic floor will be your friend.” She laughed. “And

Julian’s.”

“No doubt, but Julian says he doesn’t want me to get used to it. He says it’s only for very special occasions.”This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Same here. Pete always makes me beg for it before he dishes it out, but still. Pelvic floor, believe me. It’s a life skill.”

She gave me a whole load of techniques and I committed to them, wanting to make sure I was the slut dreams are made of especially Julian’s. I wanted to grip him like a vice, as he liked to put it.

I also completed an essential assignment that had been on my radar for weeks, and I booked in to my doctor for the contraceptive pill. As much as I loved Julian’s cum dripping from me every chance I got, I didn’t want a baby to add to our situation. Not even if it was Julian’s.

Maybe he’d end up like one of those celebrity eighty-year-old fathers with four generations of kids or something. The thought made me laugh, and it occurred to me, just how immune I was getting to ponderings about age gap dos and don’ts, even if the rest of the estate wasn’t. I was still getting barrages of insults, and bitching everywhere I went, but fuck that, and fuck them. People needed to get a life, rather than being so concerned with mine, but like hell they would. I’d probably still be getting bitched at for years to come.

Unless we moved away.

The thought was there. Always.

What if Julian and me moved away when I was done with college?

Did I really want to be in Crenham Drive for the rest of my life? No. I didn’t. The place felt like a claustrophobic dome of judgement and smallmindedness that I used to take for granted, but I was past that. Once the veil is pulled back and you see things as they really are, there is no returning. I wouldn’t have been able to pretend to be sweet little Rosie in my crappy life on this estate, even if I’d wanted to.

But there was something else, of course. Something that would hold me back beyond anything.

Mum.

Every day without her was getting harder. It was like a gulf widening, minute by minute, my heart growing more and more desperate to hear her voice and see her smiling. Memories were springing up at me, constantly. The tiny details of things I missed were magnified. Even the thought of how she clutched her mug of tea was enough that I felt tears calling. I needed her so bad.

Just not badly enough to give up Julian.

With Mum back at work, and me at college, our paths through the block wouldn’t cross very often, if at all. It was hell, knowing she was so close, but so far. One floor separated us, but that floor symbolised the world. Yet again, I could only begin to imagine the pain Julian went through when his whole family cast him aside.

He was smoking at the window one night later that week when I was missing Mum especially bad. I looked at how he was staring into the distance and wondered how bad he was missing his kids and his brother, and even Katreya. Surely all the time.

“Do you think about them?” I asked. “When you look out there, are you ever imagining Oxford in the distance?”

He didn’t hold back, turning to me with a sad smile.

“Yes. A lot of the time.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “Thank the Lord I have you to ease my pain, or I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have hung onto life for much longer.”

He sat next to me when he was done with his cigarette, and put his hand on my knee. I leant into his side, hating how awful his situation must be, regardless of me being in it. Every tiny memory of his family must cut like a knife.

“I miss Mum,” I said. “I don’t know how you do it. Really.”

“It’s simple. I find solace in you. That’s how I do it.”

The hurt in me was a nasty fog, most likely because it was Mum’s birthday in a few weeks’ time. I rested my head on him and gripped his arm, sighing at the thought I wouldn’t be there.

“Would you go back to Oxford? If you could?”

He straightened up, looking down at me with piercing eyes.

“Would I return to my wife, do you mean?”

“Not necessarily, no. But your life in general. If someone gave you the option on a plate, right now, go to Oxford and pick up life again, or stay here, with me, which would it be?”

“No one is ever going to do that. It’s a pointless thing to ponder on.”

“You would ponder it, though?”

He sighed, his eyes warm. “Sweetheart, of course I’d love to return to Oxford. Believe me, I miss my children, and my family, and my life. Friends, career, neighbours. My dog. Everything.”

I didn’t blame him in the slightest. Being upstairs from Mum was bad enough. He ran his thumb across my cheek in the way I loved. His stare was meaningful. Soulful, even.

“I miss it all, but that doesn’t mean I’d be willing to leave you behind. Oxford, or not.”

I opted to make light of it, even though I’d jabbed a wound that ran very deep.

“It would be the best thing ever if they did let you back into their lives again, and I’d love to be the girl at your side through all of it. I’d even love to meet your dog, but I can’t see I’d be invited to family gatherings with you for the next hundred years. They’d probably throw eggs at me.”

“No, they wouldn’t. They’d be far too busy throwing eggs at me.” His thumb was still on my cheek, and he read me. He always did. “I know you miss your mum, and in your case I hope it’s not going to be an all or nothing situation. We don’t have to leave this place, and you don’t have to leave her, and hopefully one day, preferably soon, she will be willing to speak with you again, even if she still despises the very sight of me. I believe she loves you too much to hold you at arm’s length for ever. Most certainly.”

It was always the case with him. Such faith in me, such little in himself. It made me sigh.

“Wouldn’t your family do the same? Don’t you believe they love you too much to throw you out for ever?”

His eyes were fixed firm.

“No, I don’t. I’m dead to them. Figuratively, if not literally.”