After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,14
can tell that.” He lifts his arms obediently so I can slide his T-shirt off. He groans as I fall to my knees and lick a wet stripe up the underside of his dick. “Felix, can I ask something before you blow my mind?”
I sit back on my heels and eye him. “Of course.”
“Do you think it would be possible for you to take off that hat first? It’s rather distracting.”
“Power through it,” I advise him, and his laughter turns to groans as he braces himself against the sink and thrusts his hips at my face. I lower my hand to my pyjama pants to fist my cock. Soon the only sounds in the room are his groans and my occasional gasps, and I’m glad he’s stopped his questions.
An hour later, I sit back from my plate of chicken korma and reach for my wine. My collection of candles burns merrily on the low coffee table, sending interesting shadows over Max’s face.
He watches me from the other side of my small sectional sofa. “So when you said you’d sort out the food you didn’t actually mean you’d cook it?”
I swallow my wine. “Fuck no, and you should be thankful for that. My skills are much more suited to takeaway apps.”
“If your food preparation is anything like your dress sense today, I certainly am thankful.”
I look down at my outfit of yoga leggings and a Hello Kitty T-shirt. “What’s wrong with this?” I ask, laughing.
“It’s not exactly pulling gear, is it?”
“I’ve already pulled you, orf,” I say, mimicking his posh voice.
He shakes his head and laughs.
I top up his wine and twist around on the sofa to lean against him. He’s toasty warm, which seems to be his normal body temperature.
He flicks through the channels idly, not settling on anything and therefore watching five minutes of everything. He does this a lot. The first time I didn’t pay attention and thought I was watching the world’s most confusing programme.
When he finally stops on a channel, I stare at him. “What the fuck? Crufts? Thirty-odd channels and you decide on a dog show.”
He grins and pulls me closer, lifting his free hand to brush it through my messy hair. “Reminds me of my younger days.”
“Why? Did they show you? What pedigree class were you in?” I laugh as he pinches me.
“No,” he says. “I apprenticed with my first paper when I was seventeen, and me and my best mate, who was also an apprentice, had to cover all the shit like this. Dog shows and county fairs. I remember watching this in a hotel in Afghanistan after covering a massacre. Made me yearn for England. It sort of represents the best of our country, like the village fetes and fairs. Faded genteel snapshots of a country that’s changing dramatically every second.”
I consider his expression. There was a lot of emotion in that statement. The most I’ve ever heard from him.
“Do you still see your friend?” I ask.
He looks almost startled as if he’d forgotten I was here. “Yes. We’re still best friends. We were partners for a very long time. He took the photos, and I wrote the pieces. Between us, we covered most of the shit that happened in the world for years. He’s retired now though. He’s a very famous painter.”
“Houses?” I ask, and I’m gratified when he laughs.
“I can’t wait to tell him that. Well, you’d know all about him if you’d read my book.”
I tut. “Can’t do it, I’m afraid. I’m waxing my inner ear this evening.” He laughs and then looks at me steadily. “What?” I ask.
“Why aren’t you with someone, Felix?”
I raise my eyebrow. “Oh, dear. Should I be with someone so I can be fulfilled?”
He grins. “Emotionally, you have a bottomless hole,” he says in a dramatic voice.
I laugh but then fidget with my T-shirt, smoothing the fabric down. “I don’t want a relationship with someone,” I say slowly. “It makes you weak.” He jerks and I look at him curiously. “You don’t agree?”
He smiles, and there’s something very sad about it. “On the contrary, I couldn’t agree more.”
As if by mutual agreement, we turn back to the television. For a while, we watch Crufts in silence, making our way down a couple of bottles of wine and lost in our own thoughts. Finally, I stir.
“Jesus,” I slur. “These dogs have got very strange names. I swear their owners were pissed when they christened them.”
He gives a drunken chuckle. “It’s a combination of things. The