Every time you make a move

Flashback filler: Reality calls pt 1

1977

Rain. Monica hated it. London was less exciting when it was bucketing down on the streets that were as wet and humid as a rainforest, leaving large puddles on the pavement with it. And every time the torrents violently tapped against the glass of the window it made the outside world seem more and more uninviting.

And wind was howling down the chimneys and through the cracks of the windows. All of Freddie's precious cats were huddled up indoors in the warmth and shielded from such unpleasant conditions.

The mere idea of visiting another museum or gallery to pass time was out of the question.

Paula left for Belfast yesterday, and although she'd rung Monica as promised when she landed, it was seemingly as though she'd taken the weather with her.

They lay atop the covers of Freddie's unmade bed that stormy morning, nestled close, legs entwined as their heads rested on the pillow across from one another, nose to nose, skin on skin.

"What are you thinking about?" He whispered softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear tenderly.

In the first few days of Monica moving into Stafford Terrace, they'd done nothing but stayed indoors and locked in each other's arms, their bodies spent, even when the sun was shining outside. The only form of social interaction they'd both had was the day before when Paula dropped by to say farewell.

It was bliss, and already Freddie and Monica were inseparable, but such laziness caused her great skepticism; if she was going to live here from now on, she needed a purpose and to find something to do with herself.

"I want to start looking for a job," her fingers drew light circles on his unshaven cheek. "And maybe open a bank account, and transfer my savings"

"Work for me?" A playful grin played on his lips.

She chuckled slightly, "I want to keep out of your hair... what use would I be to you anyway?"

"Hmmmm... well, you'd make a perfect sort of maid with a lovely white headpiece and your frilly apron... and a little trolley driver" he teased, nuzzling her gently.

She sniggered as she rubbed her inner thigh against his hipbone, "What would I do?"

"You could serve me scones and tea at home and the studio," he ran a hand up and down her bare thigh resting on his hipbone, "...then, you and I both know how the day would end"

"Well, it sounds like the best job I could take at the moment," she drew her arms back to herself a little. "It sounds like you'd make a lot of profit from it though"

"In what way?" He murmured.

"Tea and scones" she replied.

His soft lips curled at the corners, "What else?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly, "You know the answer, but I'm not going to give you the satisfaction" she then sat up.

"What are you doing?" He rolled over to watch her.

"I'm going to open the curtains. The daylight will be a bit more energising, at least."

He shuffled closer to her as she sat with her back to him and stretched, taking her by surprise as he moved her cascading brunette waves aside and started kissing the goose-bumped skin on her back.

She gasped, "Freddie?!"

He let out a chuckle as he let her hand slip out of his, watching her bend down to graze a cat's head before approaching the window.