Old Porters

Chapter Six

Six

With her quilt wrapped around her and her book on her knees, Kate was struggling to jump back into the autobiographical world of Julia Ivy, singing sensation and social media mega star. The whose words were considerbly more blury then the last time Kate read the book. The blonde yawned and closed her eyes for a minute. Either she was worn out, or her eyes were.

The gentle and sudden sound of something solid tapping at glass caused her to open her eyes. She looked over to her window. The tapping happened again. With the curtains drawn there was no way to know what the noise was.

Kate realised that she was going to have to get out of bed. Reluctantly, she swung her legs out from under the duvet, and tiptoed across the room to her window.

She pulled the curtains back, and was surprised to see Roger standing on the patio below. Try as she might she could not understand what he would be doing in her back garden at gone eleven on a Sunday night. She went to open the window, but could not find the key so waved to him, and indicated he would have to wait one minute, before she skipped across her room to the main light switch.

The big light now on, the blonde soon found the window key in the box of pens she kept in her desk draw. Confused and fascinated, Kate went to the window, and then stopped as she saw her reflection in the mirror on the back of her door. There was no way she was going to let anyone see her ratty old flannel PJ’s. She went to the window again and indicated she needed more time.

Down in the garden, Roger tapped his watch. He was standing on a damp lawn, and the only light was coming from Kate’s window. The night sky was cloudy, and promised more rain.

Inside, Kate slipped out of her pyjamas, and kicked them under the bed. Then, covering her goospimpling skin, she slipped into the silk shirt and trousers she rarely wore because they were her good PJ’s. She opened her window, and much to her dismay a blast of almost arctic night air shot into her face. She crossed her arms over her chest because she knew from past experience that silk hid nothing in the cold.

“What are you doing here?” she asked once she had recovered from the assault of the cold.

“I just wanted to say hello,” Roger said sheepishly.

“It’s almost midnight. My dad is likely to kick your arse if he finds you out here,” Kate said, enjoying the thrill of the moment.

“Let me up then,” he said as he scaled with drainpipe with a level of agility that utterly surprised her. “Just what Romeo should have done,” he said as he pulled himself into Kate’s room via the window. “Although part of the allure of the Romeo and Juliet relationship was that they couldn’t be together so I guess the pla---”

She shut the window behind him and held a finger to his lips. “If my dad hears you he’s going to have a fit.” His shoes left damp prints on her carpet. No mud though.

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk,” he said putting his hands on Kate’s waist. She had expected his skin to be cold, the air outside certainly was, but he was warm and almost cooking her flesh when his hands slipped under her silk shirt.

Before Kate could ask what he was doing, their lips touched for the first time, and Kate felt a surge of blood race through her. Her body was electric, his skin touching hers sent nothing short of bliss to every part of her being.

Suddenly her phone buzzed, and Kate was not standing in the middle of her room with Roger, she was sitting up in bed, her book open in her hands.

“Wha?” She asked sleepily. She was wearing her flannel pyjamas, the main light was off, and it dawned on her that she had just been woken up.

“That can’t have been a dream,” she told herself. “I don’t know that much about Shakespeare.” She reached for the phone, and the display told her the battery was fully charged. She sank back into bed, starting to feel embarrassed.