Pawn Among Wolves

Pawn Among Wolves: Ch1

"He. Is. Only. My. Flatmate," chanted Gemma carefully. She'd been stating it with various degrees of indignation, resignation or embarrassment all day, to no evident effect; Kate and Bethan obviously had their blood up and were revelling in teasing her. She'd hoped that they would be a bit more discreet on the open street, but no chance. Having restrained themselves to mere whispers on the bus, her two exasperating friends were now, as they walked up the road to her flat, reverting gleefully to full-volume outrageousness.

"Oh, yes?" drawled Kate, raising one eyebrow sceptically, "Haven't we heard that innocent tone somewhere before? What was it you said again? Something about Mike and platonic and mere friendship, wasn't it, just before he kept us all awake all night caterwauling romantically outside my window after the Christmas ball?" She sighed, before adding tartly, "Last time you get to sleep over."

"Methinks," chimed in Bethan on Gemma's left, "that the lady (so to speak) doth protest just way too much."

Gemma ignored them, pulling her coat tighter against the cool evening breeze and hitching her bag more securely over her shoulder, dipping her head to hide her burning cheeks behind the fall of her dark hair. Sometimes her friends were just so irritating.

"Mmm-hmm," agreed Kate, "Just makes you wonder why, doesn't it? But then, you don't have to look far for her reason. The eyes kind of get stuck on Mac as soon as they connect with him."

"He's only my flatmate," repeated Gemma resignedly. Thank god I'm nearly home, she thought.

"And she may be protesting too much now," Kate continued with a wink across at Bethan, "but I can't imagine her making any protestation when she gets home."

"He is only my flatmate." As you both know very well. Half a street to go. Gemma speeded up, knowing trying to shake them off was futile, but it would cut down harassment time before they parted at her door.

"Oh I don't know," Bethan replied across Gemma to Kate's, her long legs easily adjusting stride to the new pace. She abruptly changed her tone to a breathless coo, "Oh please, Mac, please don't," she panted huskily, "oh don't, oh, no, oh, oh, oooh, Mac, oh, nooooo."

Gemma stopped dead on the walkway and closed her eyes, clenching her fists, trying to block out her brain's suggestions as to what Mac might do to her to generate... she wrenched her mind away from that pointless path, well aware that her nipples were painfully peaked and the dampness was spreading against her panties. Again. Then she took a deep breath, pulled herself together and faced off against her so-to-speak friends.

"I thought you two had become accustomed to him FINALLY."

"Accustomed?" echoed Kate, "How do we become accustomed to that absolutely gorgeous male model adorning your flat?" she queried incredulously.

"He's a photographer, not a model."

Bethan swatted away Gemma's interjection with a careless hand. "Whatever. Look at him. He's so nice and tall," she sighed the last word in appreciation of a male who easily topped her own graceful height. Then she added, "Well, anyone is to you admittedly."

"And he's got that gorgeous mop of tawny hair," Kate joined in, her eyes beginning to shine at the thought.

"Deep, deep, green eyes that make any girl just melt away, mmmmm." Bethan cast her own eyes up in an expression of rapture.

"He's funny," sighed Kate.

"Thoughtful."

"Smooth, rippling muscles."

"Although we haven't seen the best of them," Bethan leered at Gemma, who rolled her eyes.

"Did you just see him in that shirt last night - rolled up to expose those forearms - the definition, the dusky tan, the lean strength, the welcoming smile in his eyes... mmmm." Kate was obviously off in a dream world.