Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,57
never met anyone like her. Her tongue was sharp, always more than ready to lay into me, and yet she could be thoughtful, bringing me my favorite kind of muffin. Who even remembered that kind of thing? I didn’t even think she was listening to me most of the time. She was hard, steely and unwelcoming, but when she danced, it was like seeing someone’s soul crack in two.
She was a puzzling contradiction. Trying to figure her out had become my new favorite pastime. On my last film I’d taken up Sudoku, but having sex with the author’s muse was turning into an inspiring hobby too.
Being interested in her was harmless, and the way I figured it, having as much sex with her as possible was the first step in getting her out of my system.
Besides she really was a crazy good root.
“Well, then we’ve returned to my original question.” My gaze scolded down her body suggestively.
Instead of answering she let her suspicious stare speak for her.
“Can we do it again?” I reached out to her slowly, giving her ample time to pull away, before my fingertips trailed down her creamy skin.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and a sweet sigh that sounded suspiciously like innocence, breathed out of her full lips. It took her a second to come back to me, and when she did, the glassy sheen that painted over her irises was heavy with lust.
“You’re okay with this?” Each word was carefully placed, as if she was tiptoeing down a wire.
“Isn’t this every bloke’s fantasy? Sex with no strings?” My hand dipped below the sheet and rounded over her backside before easing all the way back up to her shoulder blades.
I wanted to distract her from my lack of conviction. She didn’t need to know I had ulterior motives. There were already strings for me; invisible strings, constantly at odds with each other, trying to pull me towards her, while I fought to keep my distance. But to deal with this very backwards girl, maybe a backwards solution was exactly what I needed. The sex wouldn’t just be about pleasure for me, at least. It was too late for me to avoid getting attached, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t use the opportunity to cleanse her from my system.
***
After I’d introduced her to my shower, and she’d introduced me to a wonderful little thing she could perform with her tongue, we stumbled down to the kitchen for sustenance. I was exhausted and starving from our extracurricular activities, shoving fork-fulls of the chocolate cake I’d found from Aurelia yesterday, in my mouth.
Adley nibbled on her smaller slice, as her spare hand played with the hem of the shirt I’d let her borrow. Her eyes skirted around the room with interest.
“You’re clean,” she nodded sensibly, stating her observation. “It’s not exactly the bachelor pad I was expecting.”
“That’s all Aurelia.” I gestured around to the spotless, stainless steel appliances and sparkling floors. “She keeps me straight. Otherwise this place would be disgusting. Actually you’d really like her. She called me a racist the first time we met, and she just adores calling me on my bullshit. You should meet her.”
I didn’t claim to be an expert on all things Adley, but I knew panic when I saw it. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and her mouth pinched closed.
“I don’t need to meet your maid.”
I shrugged, trying to dismiss the tension with nonchalance. If she got that freaked out over the idea of meeting the hired help, I couldn’t imagine what she’d do if I tried to introduce her to my mom. The prospect almost made me chuckle.
I’d never taken a girlfriend home before. My family wasn’t exactly normal, and they certainly weren’t easy people to get to know. The idea of Adley meeting the Davies was appealing to me in a whole different way. Such an odd combination of so many overly spirited people would be entertaining, that was for sure.
My mother was notoriously picky. Stella James was Australia’s first international movie star, and throughout her illustrious career, she’d had many suitors, but none of them could compare to the dashing director who had given her her first big break, when she’d been nothing more than a fresh-faced teenager. Twelve years after their initial collaboration, Stella James married Mitchell Davies, and they immediately began making a family (in between projects of course). Fourteen years and five daughters later, I was born and they decided to call it day.