Fic: Baby Girl, I'm a Blur - Chapter 8
Title: Baby Girl, I'm a Blur
Author: interpol_ice
Fandom: Skins - Second Generation
Pairing: Naomi Campbell/Emily Fitch
Rating: T (naughty naught-T! not exactly T)
Summary: Naomi Campbell and the complications of having a twin for a
girlfriend. Distracting flashbacks and a lovesick mind keep her from telling
the night's story straight.
In this comedy of errors, the first thing that got right was letting Naomi
narrate. [Pre-Season 4]
CHAPTER 1 - How We'd Be (You and Me)
CHAPTER 2 - Swim or Die Without
CHAPTER 3 - Try Me On To See If I Fit
CHAPTER 4 - Lover Undercover
CHAPTER 5 - Pretty ODDyssey (X, Y & Z Units Away From Home)
CHAPTER 6 - Pretty ODDyssey (Here, You Can Be Anything)
CHAPTER 7 - Strange Bedfellows
Author's Notes: I know I said that I’d get this to you within a week
but real life happened and I had so much shit to deal with the past few
weeks so I hope you guys can forgive me for being a lying scumbag and not
updating as promised. And I’m also very aware this is like beyond late but I
pray that you guys haven’t forgotten about this story. I’m doing my best
getting it done, bbs. For all your waiting, here’s the latest chap! Hot off
the figurative grill! Let’s see if it makes up for my two-month absence!
EXPECT: A COUNTRY GETAWAY in which people DRINK WEED and get SCONED
for teatime! Find out which naughty couple’s going to GET SOME while they’re
visiting. PANDA’S AUNT ELIZABETH FTW! And of course, all the cute and sexy
that I can pack into a single chappie. Oh, right! And the color GREEN! Have
super fun reading, bbs! :D
Baby Girl, I'm a Blur
by interpol_ice
Chapter 8: StrangeR Bedfellows
= = = *** = = =
*
= = = ** NAOMI ** = = =
*
Green. It’s the first thing that comes to mind when I see Effy’s ‘surprise’.
Panda’s mother’s sister’s estate is very, very, very green. I’m fucking
serious. Like acres and acres of pure, unadulterated greenery.
I wasn’t expecting this at all. I was expecting humble cottage along the
country-side. Not rich-looking land with a Country House that gives me the
strong impression that it was sliced off a really big castle.
Panda bounces up and down on the seat beside me, all uncontainable
enthusiasm. “Welcome to my Auntie Lizzie’s country pile!”
I catch Effy’s stare trained on me through the rear-view mirror. She shoots
me a wink.
I thought this was going to be an adventure. Not a mandatory visit to
Panda’s stuck-up aunt who’s probably just one of those prim and proper
control-Nazi-freak types. I could already hear her asking us to take our
shoes off and politely coercing everyone into wearing mad biohazard suits.
Hell, maybe her whole fucking house is covered in bubble wrap.
I feel Emily’s hand squeezing my knee. It relaxes me immediately.
Well, at least she’s going to be there so it isn’t going to be a total bore.
She slides her hand up but I catch it before it reaches anywhere dangerous.
I try to stifle a laugh (really, you’d think Emily would have a little more
control) as I bring that hand of hers up to my lips and kiss it soothingly,
sort of telling her that we could save this for later.
When we get there, we’ll find a way to pass the time.
= = = = = = = =
For a lonely and loaded woman, you’d expect a cold, nearly empty house.
That isn’t exactly the case for Panda’s aunt. Aunt Elizabeth’s house is
chock full of stuff. Fucking full, I tell you. Like, really, mum would freak
if she finds out how consumerist this woman is. Really fucking amazing.
And even more of a surprise is that it’s automatically charming for me here.
Cosy. It’s animated and so full of stories I want to hear. Defaced English
notes that were framed are hanging on the walls of her foyer. Then there’s
the combined effect of the smell of pastries fresh out of the oven and
Billie Holiday floating in the air. It’s too fucking easy to feel at home. I
can’t believe it and I know I’m going too far by saying it... but this
house, it’s... seductive.
= = = = = = = =
I’m in an alcove, browsing through Aunt Elizabeth’s books on Hunting when
Emily says, “There you are!” She grabs my hand excitedly, leading me into a
white oak panelled parlour and stops the both of us in front of a bizarre
collection of chainsaws.
Yes, you heard that right the first time. Chainsaws.
Chainsaws of every model and colour and homicidal potential.
Emily whistles. “Would you get a load of this...”
My eyebrows shoot way, way up while I take in the whole scene.
The first thing that comes out of my mouth: Fuh-king hell.
“It’s a chainsaw collection,” she states, “a very comprehensive chainsaw
collection.”
“That lady is pure mental.”
Emily leans in, slowly reaching out to touch the nearest and nastiest-
looking one. “I hear she makes excellent scones though.”
Yeah, so like Emily to see the good in everyone.
“But...” I trail off, watching her as the tips of her fingers skim its teeth
gingerly. I worry that she’ll accidentally cut herself. “Still,” I say
firmly, so that her hand jerks back to where it’s supposed to be (not
anywhere near those fucking things). “You can’t deny this is crazy shit, Ems.”
She giggles, nods her head in agreement. “Right, totally even more bonkers
than your collection of Barack Obama action figures,” Emily says mockingly,
clever enough to slide her hand into mine.
Emily twines our fingers together and I don’t even bother to be offended.
No. Not when Emily has really, really soft hands.
= = = = = = = =
We’re all outside, taking the obligatory stroll around Aunt Elizabeth’s
immense grounds, when Panda tells us the most interesting story.
“Back then, there used to be another person living here. The groundkeeper, I
forgot his name...”
“Mercutio,” supplies Auntie Elizabeth.
“Right, Mercutio! Old man Cooshie.” Then Panda closes her eyes, like she’s
willing that his name shall never be forgotten from her memory ever again.
“Well, Auntie Lizzie was giving me archery lessons one day. But she
completely forgot that all-important fact of my being left-handed. So when I
shot the goddamned thing the arrow went right through Mercutio’s shoulder
instead!”
Jesus, Panda. And she said I’d make a good assassin. Boy, was she wrong.
“He was quite a distance away, really. Fooling with the Begonias. Somehow I
still managed to pop one well into his shoulder. Total accident. He’s gone
now.”
“He dead?” Katie asks in her usual way. You know, tactlessly.
“No!” Panda says, panic-stricken like Katie killed the guy in theory. “He’s
just gone. Back to his home country of Latvia, enjoying his retirement.”
“So, how is he?” Katie follows up.
“Oh, he’s like... super! His only complaint is that his shoulder hurts like
a kuce--that means ‘bitch’ in Latvian by the way--and because of that, he
finds it incredibly difficult to wank off.”
As I’m trying to put a stop to my laughter (because Panda is clearly not
appreciating the way we all found this hilarious), I spot something unusual.
Right across from me I see Effy lean into to Katie to whisper something in
her ear. Well, whatever thing Effy said makes Katie’s eyes light up like a
cat. Then Katie turns to Effy and they share this knowing look and in an
instant, they’re both doubled up in sniggers.
Hmmm. Those two...
There’s something about them that’s promising. It makes me believe that
they’re finally trying to fix things.
Emily has seen it too because she has her eyes on them as well. She’s
pleased about this, that much I can say. If you watch very carefully you’d
notice the faintest of smiles on her lips. I guess she’s glad Katie’s
letting Effy in.
It’s a bit silly, you know, how I’m happy when she’s happy. And I shouldn’t
be complaining. We share our happiness and it sounds really gay (no pun
intended) and everything but that’s a good sign, right?
See, I honestly believe that Emily and I are a done deal. All I have to do
is keep us close.
So I throw an arm around her.
Just because I can.
= = = = = = = =
Emily and I have separated from the others on account of Panda suddenly
wanting to retake those archery lessons from Aunt Elizabeth and Thomas,
Katie and Effy wanting to try their hand on it as well.
Aunt Elizabeth mentioned she had a ‘glorious garden’ and to that, Emily
could only respond with so much glee, ignoring my suggestions to stick
around for the archery so that she could sneak us off to see said nth wonder
of the world before the others did.
So the archery lessons would have to wait, I tell myself. There’s nothing more
I can do about it. I mean, what would you do if your girlfriend’s got you
completely, utterly whipped?
= = = = = = = =
The gardens on the other side of Auntie Elizabeth’s estate are ‘sheer
beauty’ (they’re so beautiful I absolutely loathe the way I can’t make it
any less sparkly-sounding). Very much like those grand landscapes the French
and the Italians seemed to be so keen at. Her gardens spread about an entire
acre having at least thirty types of flowers in full bloom. Few of which I
can recognize, much less name.
They’re arranged in such a pretty, symmetrical way. In increasing, co-centric
circles with every circle containing flowers of a particular colour. And
each round is separated from the other by a little strip of pavement for
people to walk on which is cool because you can see them all up close if you
wanted to.
I bet it’s even more beautiful if you ever get an aerial view of it. It’d be
like a large-scale colour gradient. Reds on the outside to the purples at
the core. Roses to violets. A floral rainbow.
Add my girlfriend to the picture and it’s finally a dream sequence. Emily
fascinated by a field of flowers. The light’s different and everything’s
softer, more surreal. And I think my feelings for her are interfering with
my 20-20 vision because it’s all starting to look like a ridiculously
retouched wedding photo.
Maybe that’s why Emily’s so in love with this place.
A breeze sweeps by and the fragrance it carries is heavenly. Emily’s hair
sways with it, dances to its lead. And I can’t possibly tell you how alive I
feel at this exact moment.
She smiles her big and wide smile. The smile that just crowns Emily the
Queen of the Universe. The smile that makes my heart believe that it belongs
in the sky.
I go to where she is, near a dwarf variety of sunflowers. I notice the
butterflies darting in, out and around, just as in love with her as I am.
And I pity them. These poor little sods won’t ever get to kiss her.
“It’s all so unbearably beautiful.”
Emily means the gardens.
My gaze sweeps all over her loveliness. Over her petite, Fitch-fit body.
Over the red waterfall of hair. Over all the features that I have come to
memorise: her button-nose, her perfect lips, her honey-freckled eyes that
see into me too, too well. The sight of Emily in her entirety makes me ache
with an unsettling desire.
“Yeah, unbearably beautiful.”
I mean the garden... and something--someone else entirely.
= = = = = = = =
The white ones are the innermost flowers, circling the centrepiece of the
entire garden, a grand fountain with a fat, golden Buddha monument that
looks hilariously out of place.
It’s like Fat Buddha’s floating on a big, cottony cloud I think to myself.
“Can I take you somewhere?” Emily asks, gently picking out a Madonna lily, then
twirling it between her fingers. She takes a quick sniff of it (with her eyes
fluttering shut) before she hands it over to me.
Emily Fitch still makes me blush. Fucking charmer, she is.
I grin at her because, really, the silly girl still asks.
“You can take me anywhere.”
= = = = = = = =
Thomas, observant fellow he is, told us about this room’s busted deadbolt.
Now, under his oh-so-divine instruction, all Emily has to do is lift the
doorknob and turn it. Kind of like those childproof medicine bottle caps
that you had to press down on until you could open them.
The door swings open accordingly and Emily, done with the Smooth Criminal
business turns to me with a cheeky little smirk and suddenly she’s a
different kind of smooth.
She’s got both my hands in hers and she’s pulling me in slowly. Once our
hips meet she slips her arms through mine and I can feel her grabbing,
cupping my arse, pushing me against her. The rational parts of my brain slow
down. Decent thoughts are gone now. They’re now overtaken by this extreme
ache to crush myself into her, make our bodies impossibly pressed against
one another.
Craving. Erasing the concept of spaces and in-betweens.
“So this is where Thomas got his weed?”
Tearing my eyes away from her too-pretty face, I look around. Weed everywhere.
Covering the custard-coloured walls, clipping onto a clothesline hung inside
the room, scattering atop the counter like nobody’s business.
Just... everywhere. Like this place was intended to be a fucking skunk
factory in the first place. “I suppose,” I answer, shifting my attention
back to her.
She has my skirt bunched up from behind and her light touches alone seem to
scorch the back of my thighs. Her voice is rough and raw. “Remember dealing
it?”
“Yeah,” I breathe out, doing my absolute best to speak in complete
sentences. “You wanted to kiss me then.”
Emily bites her lip and behind those gorgeous, long lashes of hers are her
hooded, hazy eyes... They’re fixed on my mouth in a way that I can’t ever go
without anymore. I’m holding my breath when she says, the same way she did
in that cave,
“I want to kiss you now.”
She attacks my lips, and oh, how I can’t get enough of this. I ease
backwards, receiving her advances. Just let her wave of kisses crash and
crash on my shore. On my mouth, my jaw, my neck. Red hair flooding my
vision, prompting a temperature rise, getting me sweating in seconds. And in
record time, the small of my back’s already digging into a counter.
She slows down. And I gain back enough sense to realise it’s my turn to
take. My hands move blindly over her hips, over her arse. Down to the back
of her thighs and then up to her bum again. I give a greedy squeeze and to
that she sends a moan passing through my lips. The sound, the rumble that
tells me I’m making her feel so fucking good, it just leaves the best taste
in my mouth. I swallow her audio and it drops down my throat, down into my
stomach, goes all the way, straight to that place between my legs.
I pick her up and she hooks her arms around my neck. I turn us around until
I’ve placed her safely onto the counter. She takes her shirt off hastily
before working on my own. We kiss feverishly in a simulated panic, like the
world was ending right around us. And it gets pretty hot, pretty fast as she
moves closer, wrapping her legs around my waist before pushing herself
completely off the counter and in a flash I’m one Emily Fitch heavier.
And I wasn’t exactly used to this. To us getting acrobatic and romantic. As
if this was Dirty Dancing or some physically demanding movie that needed
stunt doubles.
So yeah, this is totally new to me and I’m wobbling about, trying to keep
the both of us balanced. Because sometimes Emily gets really into it and
she’s totally clueless about the danger she puts me in. And thank God I fell
backwards into a row of packaged soil because if I didn’t, my spine would’ve
snapped right in two.
She lets out a surprised squeak as she topples over me. “Fuck, sorry,” she
says, a bit dazed before getting herself off my torso.
I reach out to tip her chin down so that Emily’s worried eyes look into
mine. I’m smiling my stupid grin again (the one that Emily summons or
dismisses at will), I just know it. So I lift my head up and meet her with a
reassuring kiss. “It’s fine, babe,” I say when our lips part for a second.
Then I kiss her again. “No harm done.”
That was a complete lie.
Because seriously, this just might be the most life-compromising sex I’ve ever had.
In no way though, is that fact stopping me from sliding a hand into her
knickers to grip at a delightfully round cheek. She hums her approval so I
take it a step further and push her down on to my waiting thigh so that it
hits strategically between her legs.
I want so fucking bad to know how wet she is for me that my hands just move
of their own accord, until they’re holding her hips. Then I start to rock
her up and down, setting her in motion against my thigh.
It’s kind of weird but I tell myself this is the adrenaline kicking in and
it’s all to blame for my being extra kinky. Or maybe it’s the mere presence
of all this weed. I don’t really know. Whatever it is, it spells great,
awesome sex.
I let go of her once I notice she’s already doing it on her own, grinding
herself into me slowly. I hold her by the neck, thumbs caressing the line of
her jaw encouragingly.
And it’s so satisfying because Emily’s knickers are fucking damp and I’m
fucking throbbing helplessly now because watching, feeling her do this is
just too fucking hot.
My hand trails down, I palm her tit, squeezing and massaging in tune with
her breathing which is picking up in intensity. She tells me then, like
she’s in pain, that she wants me to “Fuck’s sake, take them off!” So I
comply and hook my thumbs below the garter of her knickers and pull them
down as far as they can go.
Then there’s this awkward, and really unwanted pause as she rolls over to my
side to kick them off. Her knickers fly off to fuck knows where and we lie
there for a while in collective concern, wondering how in the world we’re
going to find them later. It’s quiet and still for a moment, just heavy
breathing in the background.
“I love you,” I blurt out. Because fucking hell, I really do.
She turns to her side, looks at me with bright eyes, and all that’s left for
her to do now is come back with a force. Soon enough, she’s on me again,
kissing me like she’s making up for all that lost time.
And Jesus. I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing it feels when her bare
cunt, slick as ever, finds my thigh again.
This time, it’s pure contact. Nothing in the way of me and her. There’s
nothing holding her back and now Emily’s bucking herself against me
relentlessly that it’s almost too fucking much for me to handle.
We’re frantically trying to keep our lips glued. I mean, Jesus Christ, as
long as they’re fucking touching something!
Pretty soon though, those kisses turn open-mouthed because her breathing
goes short and she’s so, so flushed and I just know that she’s so, so close
to coming.
Emily cries out before her back arches and her body stiffens. She stays like
that for a second and then I’m holding her by the hips again, helping her
riding it out. Emily relaxes then.
She’s completely spent when she collapses on top of me. Wet-red hair
covering pleasure-shut eyes. And it just hurts because I can get her like
this. I can make her lose it. I can make her feel so much.
It’s like that for a while. Just her, panting heavily onto my neck. Just me,
achingly aware of her hot breath on my skin. Just us and the synchronicity
of our inhales and exhales.
Emily, thinking her breathing is regular enough for her to say something,
starts with, “That was...”
I cut her off, kiss her deeply, pouring my entire being into the movements of
my lips, letting her know exactly how much I’d walk through hell and back for her.
“Fucking fuck,” she says, like she’s saying it with her last, dying breath.
“I know right?” I reply, taking it as some form of “Well, congratulations!
That was one fantastic fuck you just gave me.”
I push her fringe to the side with careful fingers. They skim across her
brow, gathering just enough sweat and warmth. “Thought we’d try something
new,” I say, my voice cracking, failing miserably at keeping suave.
Because Emily’s all about experiences. And, well, she’ll have to add
‘Getting giddy on girlfriend’s thigh’ to that growing list now.
She’s quick to recover because she’s already up and pinning my hands by my
sides. “Your turn” she announces. “I’m so gonna fucking ‘try something new’
on you too,” Emily growls in like possibly the sexiest voice ever.
= = = = = = = =
Winning over the bust sculptures of various unknown great men and women of
history and the fishing gear, the second weirdest thing inside the parlour
(if you’re not a complete dunce, you’d know that the weirdest thing in here
are the fucking chainsaws) is the couch.
So, I was thinking. If Katie donated half of her wardrobe to Oxfam and
they’d made furniture out of it, well, it’d kind of look like this couch all
three of us are occupying.
The het couple are God knows where. Effy’s upstairs, sleeping on account of
not being able to last night because of reasons I have yet to discover.
Aunt Elizabeth is gracefully bent over the tea table pouring everyone a cup
of tea when Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” starts playing from what I’m very sure
is Katie’s phone.
She whips the phone out of her purse, checks who the caller is and she turns
to Aunt Elizabeth. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”
Aunt Elizabeth stops blowing over her cup of tea to give Katie her consent.
“Please, go ahead.”
“Thank you,” Katie tells her while getting up. She’s already answered her
phone when she steps into the foyer, hoping to get more privacy. A moment
later though, she pops back into the parlour, tells us dejectedly, “Got cut
off. No signal.”
“Who was it?” Emily asks, scooting closer to me so that Katie could reclaim
her seat on the couch she obviously had an affinity with.
“Cousin Daphne. Remember? Big Scottish wedding?”
“Such a pity. I should’ve suggested you try outside. Signal’s better there,”
Aunt Elizabeth says concernedly to a clearly upset Katie.
“It’s fine, Auntie Elizabeth,” Katie says with a small smile. “I’m sure
she’ll call again.”
It’s like Cousin Daphne heard that cue all the way from Scotland because
it’s not long before we’re all listening to Katie’s ringtone again.
“Ems, let’s go,” Katies says and she starts tugging on Emily’s shirt
impatiently.
This sudden involvement surprises Emily and she brushes Katie off. “She only
wants to talk to you,” Emily insists, avoiding Katie’s gaze at all costs.
“Nonsense. She needs you to help with her vows, Ems. You know you’re really
good with the romantic speech thing.”
“Amen,” I say.
Emily and Aunt Elizabeth turn to me with matching expressions of surprise.
Katie looks like she’d flip me off if she could but thank God Aunt Elizabeth
is here. Her presence must compel Katie to keep things PG-rated.
Emily finally gives my knee a quick squeeze and I nod my permission. When I
turn back to Aunt Elizabeth, she’s staring at the place where Emily touched
me. She catches herself and directs her gaze back to me. But it doesn’t make
me feel any better because she’s staring at me thoughtfully, as though she’s
trying to figure me out.
Just like some other Elizabeth I know.
She clears her throat, getting all fidgety, making up for the silence and
the stillness that occurred just then. “Would you like cup of tea?” she asks
me, with a warm smile.
It’s such a lovely smile that I return it. “Yes please.”
“Here, let me pour you a new cup,” she says, both hands on the teapot. And I
can tell that she’s more focussed on the tea-pouring at the moment than on
the chin-wagging. Then she motions at the other cups that she’s prepared
previously. “These were getting cold. See, this tea is at its most excellent
when hot.” She picks up the teacup carefully and says, “I didn’t want to rob
you of an experience.” Then brings it over to my outstretched arms and
accepting hands.
I look down at my teacup. Again, can I emphasise that everything here is
fucking green? Like, I wouldn’t be surprised if I went outside and the sky
turned some nasty sodding shade of it. No, not at all.
“Why, thank you,” I tell Aunt Elizabeth anyway. Then I raise the teacup so
that it’s close enough to smell. I sniff at it and my suspicions are
confirmed. This tea is made out of weed.
Oh joy.
“Now, the key to tasting, dear, is that you have to slurp. Like so...” She
demonstrates, slurping loudly. Not your standard tea party, but yeah, it is
still sort of cool.
“Excellent! Excellent tea,” she announces, smacking her lips together. She
waves me on, “Go on, try it. It’s marvelously tasty.”
I copy her actions earlier, making sure to be extra loud, feeling the tea
making little bubbles from the all the suction I must be creating. Aunt
Elizabeth is right. This stuff is tasty.
I set my teacup back down on its saucer. I’m smacking my lips together as
well, enjoying the cool aftertaste, when Aunt Elizabeth mentions,
“They’re lovely. The both of them.”
The words almost don’t register. But I’m sure I heard the words ‘lovely’ and
‘both’ so that wasn’t hard to piece out because who else would fit that
description but the twins? And yes, I reluctantly admit that includes Katie.
I follow Aunt Elizabeth’s line of sight, through the window, outside where
the twins are discussing wedding plans. Katie is covering her mobile’s
mouthpiece while she’s saying something to Emily. Then Emily shakes her head
and refuses that ‘something’ Katie just said. Katie’s eyes narrow and her
hand’s on Emily’s ear in an instant. She gives it a good twist, making
Emily’s eyes widen in pain, and also making Emily’s hands open in submission
which now makes it possible for Katie to shove her mobile into Em’s
unwilling hold.
I would’ve butt in. But if there’s one unspoken rule I’d never break again,
it’d be this:
Twins. They’re supposed to settle their shit on their own.
I turn back to Aunt Elizabeth with a fond smile on my face and I know that
it’s going to give me away. “Yeah. They really are,” I agree effortlessly.
Aunt Elizabeth, with her brown cardigan and her dangling earrings, says to
me, quite ominously, “But you prefer that Emily one over the other, right?”
“What makes you say that?” I mumble over my cup of tea before I tip the
green liquid against my lips again. The tea’s making them tingle. Now this
is some magical shit I’ve got here.
“Security cameras, dear. I’m sorry, but they exist in this century...”
She says that while I’m in mid-sip. So naturally, after finding that out, I
snort into my tea, gracelessly spilling it all over my lap.
Holy shitting sunshine! It’s fucking hot!
“...have them rigged everywhere. That drying room alone has four. See, I
like taking extra care of those tea plants. Precautionary measures, you
know. Some twats have tried breaking in before. Good thing I’ve got
Boom-Boom.”
Oh God. My stomach drops. This woman just saw me and Emily fuck like never
before. And she caught it on tape, from four fucking angles.
FUCK.
“Boom-Boom!” she calls and within seconds an English bulldog comes hobbling
in, his saliva trailing after him. He barks twice, cueing Aunt Elizabeth to
set her tea-cup down excitedly. “Boom-Boom! There you are!” she exclaims,
patting the space on the couch beside her.
Despite being a heavy-set dog, Boom-Boom easily jumps onto the seat next to
Aunt Elizabeth.
“Isn’t he a chubby bubby angel? Just look at him!”
I do. I see his droopy features and his sourpuss expression. I see that it
probably mirrors mine on account of me having spilt hot liquid weed all over
myself, thank you very much.
Fucking hell, I don’t give a fuck if he’s a chubby bubby shitting angel. My
crotch is on fucking fire! And it isn’t because of sexual stimulation!
I notice Boom-Boom staring at me. His wide-set eyes seem to look like
they’re full of concern.
Wait. On second thought, he is kind of cute.
“You all right, love? You seem to be a little out of it?”
I snap out of my Boom-Boom trance and get to my feet immediately.
“Oh, dear me. You’re wet,” she points out simply, finally noticing my life
was in danger just now.
I couldn’t contain my discomfort any longer. “May I use the loo?”
“Oh, please do. It’s just outside the parlour, the second door on the left.
The bright yellow one.”
I hurry off, following her instructions. And there it is, just outside the
parlour, second door on the left. (The bright yellow one.) I reach out for
the knob, and when I turn it, it doesn’t budge. I try again. Nothing
happens, I just have a stupid yellow door to look at.
For a second, I had the urge to bang the door to get whoever the fuck’s in
there to come out.
“Occupado!” Panda yells irritatedly from the other side and of course it’s
heard over the door because it’s Panda. And in case you didn’t know already,
Panda is a walking megaphone.
I press my ear against the door, fucking curious as to what’s taking her so fucking
long and by the sounds of it, she’s not going to be coming out any time soon.
Well, she could be coming any time soon. Just not coming out any time soon.
Because when I mean sounds, I mean Ohhh and Oh, oh, oh and Flippin’ heck,
pullin’ at my neck and Jesus, Thomas, John, Joseph, Mary and grunts and moans and things slapping against another.
Despite the fact that I’m so fucking annoyed that they denied the rest of us
access to the loo just because they wanted to make the fucking monkey I
still wanted to warn them, you know, that there might be some hidden cameras
in there. In case somebody wanted to nick the basket of plastic fruit in
there or something. But I don’t really go there so I just I give the door
one, last, angry bang before retreating back into the parlour.
When I get back, I find Aunt Elizabeth holding a fat roll of kitchen paper.
“Pandora will be out soon, I’m sure of it. And from what I’ve seen… Well,
you’ve already been hot and wet in the drying room. I s’pose you could stand
being hot and wet a little while longer.” she says airily, tossing the
kitchen roll at me.
Now I know where Panda gets her pseudo-filthy from. Her Auntie Elizabeth is
a walking smut-operator.
I take the kitchen roll and tear some off to start cleaning myself with.
“What did you see exactly?” I ask, trying to keep the terror out of my
voice.
“Nothing more than what was necessary. I didn’t need to see any more exposed
skin to figure out where that was going. I respect your privacy so I shut
them off.”
“Oh. That’s a... relief--I mean... thanks--I mean... we’re sorry!”
Shit. Now I know how JJ feels. No, really. I should stop being so hard on
him. Apparently, I have the makings of being a stammering, blabbering twat
as well.
She sets her teacup down and it’s empty. She opens her mouth with a purpose.
“Naomi, dear. Panda doesn’t bring that many friends round, yeah? So I’m not
accustomed to visitors belonging to your age groups. I’m not really aware of
what you kids are capable of but I was expecting everyone to be tame, at the
least. Sure, at times I catch people picking their noses or stealing the
tiniest Matryoshka dolls from my collections because they think I wouldn’t
notice. But nothing of that magnitude, you know. Especially from two young
women. So you can say that I was a bit... shocked when I saw... what I saw.”
My eyes are fixed on her empty teacup. I’m having delusional ideas that
involve filling it with tea so that she’d be obliged to stop speaking and
start sipping her fucking liquid weed.
“I don’t know how to tell you this... and I terribly hate to be a party
pooper. But I wouldn’t like for you to think I was invading your privacy or
anything. So, the next time you come lovely ladies come round, please,
refrain. That clear, love?”
I gulp and blink back my surprise. I clear my throat but my positive
response comes out as a croak. “Yeah, absolutely clear. Crystal clear.”
So I’m there, patting myself dry on the outside, dying in a hole of
embarrassment on the inside. Aunt Elizabeth is sat across me, looking
thoughtful with her hands all folded nicely on her lap. Suddenly, her face
lights up as if she’s just remembered something. “Wait here, I think I have
just the thing to get you all tidied up.”
Aunt Elizabeth gets up and buzzes out. Emily comes back in not long after
and I wonder if I should tell her about those security cameras or not but as
Emily’s drawing nearer I see that she’s not exactly in the best mood so I
decide against it.
Instead, I ask, “Where’s Katie?”
“Upstairs,” she breathes out, plopping beside me on the Cheetah-skin couch.
“With Effy.”
I pause to marvel at how chummy those two are being. Wasn’t it just last
night that they were at each other’s throats? For all I know they could be
up there getting a tan on the fucking roof so that they’re all nice and
golden when they sell their Girl Scout Cookies tomorrow.
“Where’s Aunt Lizzie?” Emily asks and I force myself to stop with the Katie-
Effy-best-mates fantasy.
“Oh, she’s off getting the solution to my problem,” I tell Emily.
“Your problem being...?”
I glance down at my skirt to show her exactly what my problem is.
Emily snickers. “Whoa, babes. You’re wet. Again.”
At that, I shoot her a cross look. You’d think she’d be a little more
considerate about this whole ordeal. Then what she says next throws me off
completely. It’s something that would’ve made me spill tea all over myself
again.
“Shame I can’t clean you up this time around. I would’ve made well use of
my tongue, if you know what I mean.”
Her lips are tickling my ear in a way that never fails to turn me on and
Christ’s sake, how can I not turn beet-red? Don’t get me wrong. I love it
when she talks filth and all. But not here, where there could be hidden
sound recorders lining the walls, just waiting to shoot something porn-
worthy. I promised Aunt Elizabeth that the indecency would stop.
Speaking of Aunt Elizabeth...
We hear her returning and I’m pulling away from Emily like she’s a plague
and I know she’s going to punish me for that later but Aunt Elizabeth’s
coming and I don’t want her to think Emily and I just had a quickie while
she was away.
But wow... I’ve gotta say Aunt Elizabeth is freaking me the fuck out of my
mind with what she thinks is a ‘proper solution’.
And you’d think she’d come back in the parlour, carrying a blowdryer or a
fan or something... but no, she comes back in carrying a fucking leaf
blower.
This woman and her power tools. A model for feminists everywhere.
And it’s inevitable, I’m prompted. An iconic scene immediately comes to
mind. Of a blonde woman keeping her skirt down.
I gulp down loudly, instinctively grabbing Emily’s hand. “Don’t you have
something a little less... hardcore?”
“Don’t be silly. This way you’ll be sorted in a second. So what do you say?
Fancy doing a Marilyn Monroe?”
= = = = = = = =
*
= = = ** EFFY ** = = =
*
Katie’s flicked the television on so I wake up listening to Taylor Swift.
Just. Fucking. Wonderful.
“Would you get a fucking load of this?” Katie says, waking me up on purpose.
I pull myself out of Aunt Elizabeth’s sea of fluffy pillows so that I could
sit up and read the little header on the top-left part of the screen so I’d
know what Katie’s talking about.
MTV’s Ten Best Videos of 2009.
I don’t watch MTV anymore. I don’t even watch TV anymore.
I don’t give a fuck, really.
“Taylor Swift is on it three times! Totally jokes, you know. My tits have
more talent than she does, Christ’s sake. I mean, how the fuck does shit
like this happen? See this? It proves that everyone at MTV is a tasteless
tosser.”
“That what you think? Because I think it ain’t half bad,” I lie
intentionally, wanting to get a rise out of her.
“It’s like she took ten tiny shits in my brain. How the fuck can you think
this ‘ain’t half bad’? Look at her. Even Naomi dances better than her!”
“You’re just saying that because Campbell has grown on you.”
While Katie’s busy ranting about life in general I’m able to wiggle the
remote out of her lax hold. I channel-surf until I land on a documentary
about global warming on National Geographic.
“This is boring.”
“This isn’t Taylor Swift.”
“True.”
“Katie?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Why’d you kiss me?”
“Why’d you hit me in the head with a fucking rock?” she snaps back, annoyed.
It comes to that point where I uncharacteristically can’t say a thing
anymore. Katie seems to get me to do that all the time.
She purses her lips, frowns at me. “I thought we dropped this already?”
“I haven’t slept all night. It’d be peachy fucking nice to hear an
explanation,” I say, my voice rising (just a little).
“Lalalala. Not listening.”
“Katie.”
“LALALA!”
I roll my eyes. “Have it your way then,” I say indifferently, rolling my
eyes before shutting them because if she isn’t giving any answers I’m
clearly supposed to just ignore her right about now.
It’s not long though, before she’s playing along and pretend-waking me up
from my pretend-slumber. “Effy? Eff? You awake?”
“No,” I answer flatly and through my squint eyes I see her eyes widen in
disbelief, then aggravation.
“Shit, Eff, I’m trying to tell you something,” Katie whines over me. “So cut
being a tit, yeah?”
I breathe out a sigh to hide my satisfaction. “Okay, I’m listening.”
In fact, I’m always listening. It’s not like you could shut your ears like
you could your eyes. Always listening. That’s how I know too much.
Katie’s shuffling beside me on the bed. She fancies lying down as well.
Couldn’t blame her, really. Aunt Elizabeth’s king size is just the most
inviting thing in the world.
So here we are, Katie and I lying next to each other, about to talk of
things that may or may not matter in the end.
“I...” she begins, like telling me this hurts her.
She’s stuck. So I wait patiently, gently grazing her arm with a pinkie. It
helps and it gets her talking.
“I’ve been asking a ton of questions lately and I just wanted to know what
it’s like. Hitting two birds with one stone. You know. I wanted to know why.
Why Freddie loves you more. Why Emily likes kissing girls. And I dunno... I
figured if I kissed you, I’d know what it’s like. Then I’d know why Freddie
and Emily love what they love.”
Katie’s voice goes small again. It makes it easy to believe that these
issues with Emily and Naomi and Freddie and me were actually tearing Katie
apart in some way. Because if you look at things from the surface, you’d
think Katie didn’t care. Truth is, she does care. In fact, she cares too
much.
Here she is, sounding sad. A kind of sad Katie Fitch should never be allowed
to be.
So I ask her, “Hey, Katie. You’re done kissing me and everything... Can you
say you know what it’s like now?”
It makes Katie laugh quietly. Not as hearty as I would’ve wanted for her but
she’s cheered up nonetheless. “Yeah, you did Emily and Freds justice, Eff.
Don’t worry, I’m going to stop thinking that they have shitty taste now.”
The remote’s in her hand again. Means I have to endure listening to some
mainstream shit for the next ten minutes.
“Katie?”
“Mmmm?”
“This morning. When you said that I loved Freddie more...”
Katie has enough foresight to lower the volume. You couldn’t hear anything
over the steady bass line. “Oh, Effy, sweetie,” she says, turning to me, “If
we let that little stint go on for longer we all know where that’d head,
yeah? You’ll use me like you used Cook.”
Well, I can’t say she’s right about that. I can’t say she’s completely
wrong, either.
“You’re like. Really magnetic, Eff. Everyone loves you. But then you hit me
over in the head with a rock...”
I can’t look at her every time she mentions it. Christ, if I could do
anything over again...
“...and I didn’t love you that much anymore,” she deadpans.
A second later she’s laughing to herself and... Fucking hell, was that
supposed to be funny? Because I’ve completely missed the humour in that one.
“And I tried really hard, Eff. I built this fucking wall that made sure we’d
never have to cross paths like... ever. Y’know?”
The TV’s still on. I’m watching the people on screen. Their mouths are
moving but no sound’s coming out. I wish I could do the same with Katie.
Just watch her talk, not listen to what she actually had to say.
Because the things she’s telling me... they hurt.
They hurt like fuck.
But no, I have to man up and take this in. I asked for answers, I’m getting
answers. Straight from the source. I can’t chicken out now.
“Tried really fucking hard to hate you, to keep you away. I let my guard
down for one night and you manage to win me over.”
I won her over.
And there it is. There’s my reason to smile.
And I don’t know what it is about the moment but my mouth’s opening and I
want to give Katie a piece of myself too.
“Remember Tony?”
“Who forgets super fit brothers?” Katie says, jokingly.
“Well, I picked up so much from him. That smooth bastard taught me
everything I know.”
“He was quite the legend,” Katie starts but then stops herself
because from the sound of it, she was about to go on a full-fledged, Tony-
induced gushing session.
I think of my brother. Loveliness and cleverness aside, he used to be such a
massive arse.
“He used to hurt a lot of people. Found out he didn’t like it. So he sorted
it out with everyone. He sorted it out with himself. He changed.”
And I leave out the part where he got run over by a bus. Because that kind
of shit isn’t exactly bedtime story material.
It was getting roadkilled for Tony. It was hitting Katie with a rock for me.
Someone had to almost die for the lesson to sink in. For the both of us to
stop fucking with the people we care about.
And I should’ve fucking known better, you know?
“Sometimes I think I was born backwards... You know, come out my mum the
wrong way. I hear words go past me backwards. The people I should love, I
hate, and the people I hate...”
Katie holds my hand when the words stop coming out. She understands my
sudden silence.
= = = = = = = =
Evening has fallen slowly, in a way that makes you surprised that you don’t
see the sun when you look out the window anymore. Nobody has come in and
mentioned anything about going home.
It’s nighttime and the roads can be pretty shit when you can’t see the
potholes. That, plus the fact that I’m dead tired makes the idea of driving
everyone home tonight laughable.
Good luck breaking the news to everyone, Stonem.
But then Panda comes barging into the bedroom, lights turning on in her wake
and it seems that going home tonight was never in her plans. Aunt Elizabeth
comes trailing in after her, carrying her tray of magnificent scones. Then
there’s Thomas, looking a bit nervous, perhaps because of the glaring fact
that he’s the only male in this estrogen-charged, super-hardcore pyjama
party.
Emily comes in (with Naomi, of course) and she immediately makes a beeline
for Katie who’s currently fussing over the various beauty products on Aunt
Elizabeth’s vanity. Emily mentions something about there being a blowdryer
here after all which Naomi can only respond to by turning a funny shade of
red.
Then Panda’s there, grabbing at the twins, pulling at them until they are
all here with me on the bed.
“Hey, Eff,” Naomi says with her trademark wink. She gets in after Emily and
I can’t stop myself from thinking them the cutest thing ever.
Aunt Elizabeth hands Panda a DVD and now she’s shouting excitedly, like this
is the most important thing in the universe. Then again, lots of stuff is
the most important thing in the universe for Panda...
“Chick Flick! Sorry, Tommo! We’re doing Breakfast at Tiffany’s!”
“Pop it in the box, Panda Poo,” Aunt Elizabeth says while getting into bed
herself. Her king-sized is massive enough to fit all of us in so there’s
still plenty of room left even as she squeezes in between the twins with her
delicious-looking tray of scones (isn’t it obvious that I really want one?).
Panda gives her aunt a little salute. “Roger that, Lizzie Poo!” She hobbles
off to load the disc in and after that, she says to Thomas, “Aunt Elizabeth
has a rule. No boys on the bed. Sorry, Thomas. I can sit with you here,
though” she says, letting go of his hands to motion around them. “That
alright, Lizzie Poo?”
“Why, of course it is. You know where the extra pillows are, Panda. You can
get some if you and Thomas want to be more comfortable.”
Then she starts passing the tray around. “Why, you girls still haven’t tried
my scones. I implore you all to have a taste! They’re certainly not going to
eat themselves.”
Panda’s head juts out from where she and Thomas were sitting at the foot of
the bed. “Leave some for us, okay?”
We all break into grins because Panda is being adorable again and after
everyone has taken a piece she gets up to get the tray of scones from me
then she’s happily hopping off to Thomas again.
So as far as arrangements are concerned, I’m lying next to Katie and Emily
and Naomi are on the other side of Aunt Elizabeth. Aunt Elizabeth, snug in
her cocoon of Fitch twins, puts her arms around them.
“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a threesome with twins,”
she says, pulling them in closer.
Emily and Katie exchange identical looks of surprise-slash-horror because
that was just so wrong and Naomi seems to agree with me because I’m
pretty sure that peculiar sound in the background is the sound of Naomi
choking on her scone.
Hell, I’d be choking on my scone too if Aunt Elisabeth was looking at me
while she was saying things like that. Because Aunt Elizabeth was, you know,
looking at Naomi while she said that.
Poor Naomi.
“Oi!” Panda calls. “Can you guys pipe down? The movie’s starting!” she
shushes us intensely. To that, everyone stiffens and you can feel it in the
air that everyone’s making a conscious effort to shut up.
So, for now, I forget about the sexual suggestions, forget about Naomi
choking, forget about how warm Katie is next to me... and I focus on the
film.
I have to show Audrey Hepburn some respect.
= = = *** = = =
A/N: After that epico-stupido stunt I pulled off by not updating in forever, I’d be lucky if I still get any reviews. I mean, thank you for still reading this fic despite its temporary state of abandonment. I just... can I hug you, loyal reader? BIG LOVE TO YOU!! *HUGSIESFOREVERYONE!*
Also, if you wanna hear about this... I have to say it was kinda hard unleashing my inner perve. Oh well, hope you guys found that smut scene somewhat decent. XD And I wanna know what you guys think about this chapter... So fire away!
NEXT: Effy taking the gang to her magical WATER PARK! A place of endless fun and excitement! (No, really!) Have you been missing the boys? Great news! THE THREE MUSKETEERS ARE IN! (Yes, that includes JJ) So I’m keeping the seatbelt sign on because CHAPTER 9’s going to be such a ride! Excited? You are? EXCELLENT! You’ll be hearing from me soon! :)
Chapter 9 found here:
(next)