Moved On

Moved On Part Nineteen

"Franci wait, you forgot the cupcakes."

Sean’s little round cleaner turned at the front door, arms full of Tupperware. Annie balanced just one more on top.

“Judas,” Sean muttered under his breath. Franci was supposed to have his back, not sell her soul for thirty pieces of cake! He bit sullenly into a slice of cherry Madeira, in which he could detect no actual Madeira, and turned up the volume of the football on the telly. But the sound of the two women laughing still pierced his concentration. Who would have guessed Annie and Franci shared a cake obsession? In Annie's case it was definitely obsessive, she didn't do anything else but bake. Every day, on returning home, Sean found his house smelling like a bakery.

Swallowing a mouthful of glacé cherries, he decided he hated cakes. Sponges, muffins, cupcakes, loafs, breads, brownies, anything that even resembled them, he hated them all.
From the corner of his eye, he watched Franci take Annie's face in her hands, kissing both silken cheeks. His daily had never kissed him goodbye. He shrugged, slouching down on the sofa so he could stretch his legs along its length, but then, he didn't do Franci's job for her, Annie did. She also fed the older woman coffee and cake all day.

The front door closed, and Sean sat up, twisted, arm across the back of the couch, blatantly watching Annie make her way back to the kitchen, she didn't look like a pin up today. Bare of makeup, hair in a scruffy ponytail, and wearing a flimsy summer dress, that rode nicely up her thighs every time she reached up into a cupboard. Sean pointed the remote at the telly, pausing the match. "You wanna lie down wi' me and watch de footy?" He asked, wanting her curves imprinted against him, but not holding out much hope she'd agree.

"No thank you." She responded primly, it was more than he'd got from her all week.

No kisses, no smiles, just monosyllabic answers when he'd pushed her to talk to him, and that with no eye contact. Presents, cajolery, trying to lure her out of the house with promises of excitement, all failed to mollify her. He’d even let her take his beer out of the fridge to make room for her fucking cakes!

Jesus, could that woman bear a grudge!

Now, Sean could do his penance as well as the next man, but he had to believe there was reconciliation at the end of it. If he was going to be punished no matter what he did, he might as well earn it.

Along with the cherry sponge, Franci had carefully placed beside him a cup of tea. He reached for the mug, it was still warm, but, he liked his tea hot.

Although Sean's barefoot approach was silent and unobserved, every step nearer was like a turn of a vice on Annie's nerves. He was as annoying as a cat with a half filled food bowl, weaving in and out of her work space at any given opportunity. He seemed to enjoy challenging her ‘get out of my face’ vibes. She focused on buffing the sparkling chrome of the taps, hair rising on her neck when she felt the heat of his presence on her back. 

Arms surrounding her, one hand poured the mug of tea down the drain, the other engulfed hers, to turn on the tap. The banked embers in the pit of her belly, sparked and flared. Sean's breath washed over her exposed shoulder, making her shiver. Not content with rinsing his cup, he whipped up the tea towel and dried it, Annie trapped within the circle of his arms.

"Do you want one?"

Hell yes, over this sink, right here, right now, while I hold onto the taps for dear life, her body screamed.

"No thank you." Her tone prim.

Sean huffed a short, hot laugh by her ear, and stepped away from her. Once released, she moved to the furthest point in the kitchen. She'd leave altogether except she had brownies in the oven.
Annie didn't want brownies, in fact she couldn't be happier to never see a bowl of flour again, but knew with a visceral conviction that her baking was driving him up the wall. Resting her elbows on the counter behind her, eyes dropping to a lovingly moulded arse in worn denim, she watched him insert two slices of bread into the toaster oven, and just couldn't resist. "If you wait twenty minutes, the brownies will be done." Annie informed him sweetly.