No Strings

Chapter 23

I zipped up the dress and smoothed it over my thighs, then turned around to survey the rear view. Not bad. I wasn't exactly skinny but this dress really flattered my curves, though I said it myself. And the colour - a vibrant red - really suited me. I had always suited red, it flattered my dark hair. Maybe it was the glass of wine I had already drunk but I was feeling OK about tonight. It was going to be OK. I needed to get out and let my hair down. I needed to get Jake out of my head. And looking at myself in the mirror I had a feeling that Ollie would be glad to see me and that maybe I had a chance of moving on, giving another man a go. Jake was not the be all and end all. He was just a bump in the road.

I laughed to myself as I swallowed down another mouthful of wine, finishing off the glass. Had I really thought that having a fuck buddy would work? I had been so full of my good fortune at having such a hot neighbour who was prepared to service me. So delighted I was getting regular sex without the complications. But I had failed to realise that the reason I thought Jake was so hot, was because I fancied him like hell. And It wasn't just his bad boy edge or his unattainability. He looked good, that was an undebatable fact. But he also smelled and tasted good and when we were together, skin against skin, it felt right, deep in my bones. There was something instinctive about my attraction to him that had only grown with the increasing closeness. And we had got closer, not just in my imagination. He had kissed me. He'd slept in my bed. He had reacted so strongly when he had seen Paul kissing me. But he was still a closed book. There was still so much I didn't know about him. And it seemed he still didn't do relationships. And enough was enough, I couldn't keep pining for a man who wasn't ever going to be mine.

So ... I slicked on some red lipstick and fluffed my artfully messy waves and headed out to see what Ollie could offer me.

---

The weather had cheered up a little but it hadn't affected my mood. I was bloody lucky I didn't do a job that required me to be charming and cheerful, that's all I can say. Because pretty much everyone was getting the brunt of my bad temper. Luckily, Mo had known me long enough to just ignore me when I was being like this and he had the kind of temperament that didn't take it too personally.

Others were less amused. My boss for one, didn't take kindly to being snapped at and hauled me into his office to give me a much deserved roasting. That was embarrassing. It made me feel like I was fifteen years old again. And of course he had to refer to my past 'issues' which turned embarrassment into total mortification. As everyone was more than well aware, I did not like to talk about these things. So I reassured yet another person that I was still seeing my counsellor and stalked out to do my customary circles of the car park. Maybe, I finally admitted to myself, people had a point. Maybe I was not doing as well as I thought.
I stayed late that night, well after my shift had ended and forced myself to go home eventually, dragging myself past the Crown. It was tempting to go in there and get wasted but I knew from experience that that was a bad idea. Booze would numb this restless feeling for a while but I would wake in the morning feeling much worse and I didn't want to start that destructive cycle again.

Stomping up the stairs my thoughts wandered to Sarah. This was the reason I was reluctant to come home. Away from the building I could at least distract myself but whenever I was home I couldn't help thinking about her and what she was doing just a few metres away from where I was. The temptation to find out was ever present but so far I had been managing to resist. Sarah was a worse addiction than the booze it seemed and going cold turkey was tough.

When I reached the landing my eyes were involuntarily drawn to her closed door. Was she in there? Was she slumped on her sofa watching Saturday night TV in that big grey T-shirt she sometimes wore, her long bare legs curled under her, that mess of curls flopping over her face? Or maybe she was curled up on the sofa with that fucking step brother of hers. An image of them both assailed me and I suddenly felt nauseous.

Then her door abruptly opened giving me no time to react or move and she was standing there fumbling in a tiny handbag.

I was frozen on the spot as I took in the tight red dress, her bare shoulders, the long legs, the high heeled shoes. I had thought she looked good in the grey dress that night in Shoreditch but now she looked stunning. I had actually stopped breathing. I was struck dumb.

She didn't seem to know the effect she was having on me because she just scowled slightly and said, "Do you spend your whole life hanging around on this landing?"

I dragged my stupified brain back to the land of the living and attempted to drag my eyes away from her tits.

"Just finished work," I muttered.

She was wearing some kind of eye makeup that was seriously sexy.

"I'm going out," she said glaring at me. There was a definite edge to her voice. What did she want me to say, I wondered? If indeed she wanted anything from me at all.

"Anywhere nice?" I asked, cringing at my awkwardness.

"Some new bar in Kensington," she said.

Tell her she looks nice, a voice inside my head urged. But I just stood there like a twit.

"So ... " she said to fill the silence. "See you around." And she brushed past me, the smell of her musky scent enveloping me, and I watched her retreat down the stairs, the luscious waves of her dark hair bouncing.

When I got inside the flat a surge of impotent anger made me punch the wall by the door, bruising my knuckles and creating a fitting ending to another perfect day.