Horizontal Twist

      start of  ***HORIZONTAL  TWIST***

🍜The last thing he needed to come home to was disarray. His mind was already cluttered by the goings-on of an awkward client backing out of a deal that he knew could make a reasonable profit. The loss, of course, not paramount to the company, but he hated being messed with. Even after a fine dining  meal (often used in the business as a softening tool), he waited until during dessert to politely tell Neil to stick it. Neil told him back that he hoped he choked on the fucker as he angrily left the table; the bastard client had no intention of signing  a deal half an hour into discussions.

Saskia had let herself in at half past one - two hours earlier than she said she'd planned - with a whole new deal-for-the-day that smelled of PJ's, (her mini heart-stamped ones) snacks, and whatever else alcohol brought about. No longer did she desire to go see that boring new film with him (she let him have his way sometimes!) and instead put another slant on its cancellation by staying home. She got a sudden shock when she heard his key in the door.

   'No, no, no!' she squawked at him. 'What are you doing home now?'

   He rooted himself as he noticed her there in the kitchen-space, a metal tray on the worktop with marshmallows capped in brown aboard, with a trail of melted chocolate travelling back and forth from a bowl; over the hob, the counter, and her mouth. He was - gradually - getting used to the general clutter that came with her - something rectified fairly easily - but burnt in stains and opened drawers, jars and packets, and the shamble just tipped him over the pissed-about weariness edge. 

   'What's all this?'

   'Chocolate mallows... ' she said, slowly raising the spoon and licking off a big drip that was forming. For the first time she could almost physically feel how irked he'd become. 'You're always telling me I should learn to cook.'
   Disparagingly he shook a slow, unhappy head.  'I'm going for a shower, please sort out this mess by the time I'm out.' 

   Saskia fought the urge to tell him to piss off, it was no big deal; a rub with a Brillo pad and ta-da...  there you go!'

   Hoping that the foamy promises of his stress-relief shower gel lived up to its claim, she waited until she heard the water turn off, then the zip of the shower curtain being pulled back, before her head appeared round the bathroom door (as if it were on a stick), startling him a little. Seeking a truce, she laid his folded shorts and tee-shirt nightwear on top of the towel rack.

   'Just thought you might need these,' she said in a small voice, and left him be - thinking it wise to perhaps make an attempt at tidying, at least, the kitchen.

   Appearing from the bathroom doing that wet hair and towel thing, she hoped any irascibleness wasn't still lurking under that wet mop. He looked disgruntled yet, but was wearing his PJ's nonetheless, and came to join her in the kitchen.

   'Put that scrubber, down,' he told her, taking it from her and throwing it into the sink. 'Sorry for the grumpiness, I've had a shit day.'

   'S'alright,' she sighed, drying her hands. 'It would have been all cleaned away had you come home when you were supposed to and you'd have been none the wiser... want one?' She turned and held out a sticky glob of pink and brown with her fingers and he accepted it. 'Good?'

    'Ah... eaten worse,' he opined as he chewed away. Saskia  punched him playfully in the stomach, and it felt good to see his smile slotting back into place. 'Not had any lunch yet, suppose I could teach you to cook food properly - or in your case, cook proper food!' 

    'Could do,' she agreed, holding out a bottle of beer to him. 'What were you thinking?'

    'That I'm in for a hard time.'

    And he more or less was. Despite working in the food industry, the furthest the little tea shop that she worked in went to, by way of hot food, was toasties and soup of the day; provided by outside caterers or from her mum's friend's kitchen. Saskia mostly served or thrown-together sandwiches, if need be. And she'd mentioned that it was her grampa and mother who cooked at home. If left to her, she'd happily survive on cereal and sandwiches, so trying to get her into some easy recipe that included one uncomplicated wok was proving to be challenging; even the preparation.

   'Bloody Nora!' she exclaimed (a saying of her Grampa's that still carried with her), as she struggled to get a lid off a jar of paste. 

   'Can't you manage?'   

   'No. You'd need a ruddy degree from Oxford to learn how to open that!' 

  'Give it here..' Neil twisted it open first time.  Heedless of instructions, it wasn't too long before she was sucking on a burnt fingertip and he decided to take the wok from her but encouraged her to observe.  However, any tutoring was being rudely snubbed as she hummed and assented behind him, trying to fool him into thinking she was paying attention, when in reality she was swiping away on her phone. On discovering this, he nabbed it from her and tossed it quite a fair distance onto the settee, under a huge gasp from her. 

    'What are you doing!' she protested.

    'Jesus Christ, lady, you're supposed to be learning something here.'  As endearing as taking an interest in one of his passions would have pleased him, deep down he knew the quest to ever see her beside some simmering pot was overestimating her desire to ever want to. Chocolate mallow-making was perhaps the extent her abilities wanted to go. No one can truly shake off childhood, he concluded. Gourmet was a thing strictly for adulthood. 'Look, this is almost ready. Get out two bowls and two wine glasses, we can eat at the bar... I'll not book you in for any more classes.'

   'Got out of that one, Scotsman free,' she cheekily quipped, crackling with energy like the wok she'd managed to sunder from.

   'And don't think for one second of picking that bloody phone back up,' he ordered as he faced the hob again, 'we're about to eat.'

   'I won't... I love it when you're all daddy-like with me... '

   He turned and gave her a look.

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Needless to say - or for him to inquire - that their cinema outing was now was a no-goer, instead she'd planned an in-bed movie at some point. If they'd be focused enough to enjoy it was a different matter.

    Bowls pushed aside, playing cards taking up the space, she shuffled the pack and dealt while giving instructions for booze-based Pontoon.    

    'So, it's the loser that necks the shot, then?' Neil queried. 'Seems a bit au contraire.'

    'Speak English, Dad.'

    'Different, off beat. Usually winners get rewarded.'

    She sighed. 'Are you sticking or twisting?'  

    Three times in a row Saskia lost before his own first defeat, and near gagged the second he'd downed his shot. 'Ugh! The chuffing stuff tastes like bloody Benylin!' he said, slamming the mini-glass down with a clunk.

    'Like what?' she frowned.

    'Oh, just this chesty cough syrup my mother used to pour down my throat every winter as a boy.' 

    Saskia gave a tender smile at hearing this as his mother didn't feature in his narrative too often. As for the Jagerbombs  - which she'd pre-bought - he wished her the win with every hand, but refused to cheat and kept swigging the chuffing stuff nonetheless. An hour and a half later he called it a day as her losing streak tripped into alcohol-induced profanities; thank God she was never this lavatorial elsewhere. So far.

         

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Despite the buzz in his ears, Neil reckoned he was sober enough for some laptop work. With this taken care of, he might even take tomorrow morning off. The bored and petulant child in Saskia, however, had other ideas. Not satisfied with eyes glued to her phone for a miraculous change, and rain keeping her from the balcony, her impatience grew to attention-intervention; starting with aimlessly bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, humming random tunes while hitting him constantly with are-you-finished-yets. Pillows and cushions went everywhere, hairbands pinged at him, and so far he seemed to be impressively unbothered by her antics. But she was, by temperament, designed for fun and upped her game to bouncing right next to him; knees bent and arse stuck out, as he tried to type. That did the trick. 

   Snapping his laptop shut and pushing it to the middle of the table, he made a grab for her which she dodged by flying off the settee with him in chase. Despite his insatiable love for her, she'd still ruined his castle and Neil Balfour didn't like it one bit. He nabbed her flat on the bed, holding her by the wrists above her head and looked down at her with disdain, feeling more than hacked off.

    Raising her hips, she brushed her genitals across his, unchaste by his impulsive response.  This wasn't her usual signal when she required him, not the gentle lead up to it he'd come to recognise. Held in such dominant form turned Saskia on, so she thought she'd try to make him play harder, struggle free, but his full weight dropped on her, keeping her there. She responded eagerly. 

'You do my head in, girl, d'you know that?' he said in between breaths, after the whole five-minute event was over.

    'Try my best,' she smirked, slipping the bottom half of her nightclothes back on.

    He gave her a wry smile and shook his head lightly, not sure if those kind of five minutes would ever happen again. Sometimes all it took was a slight stroke of his thigh for slow tension to build, not even making it to bed. Sometimes one would fall asleep before the other on the sofa, then feel the warmth of a body snuggling in at some point through the night. So he'd surprised himself to find a rampant side still left in him, although it was pretty much out of his comfort zone these days. Now he struggled with the fact that his bed felt empty on the nights she wasn't there, and the luxury of all that space he once enjoyed felt oppressive. 

   With sudden hoo-hah, Saskia leapt from the bed, and boosted back with the bottle of champagne she sneakily had hidden in the back of the fridge, two flutes and unnecessary snacks. 

   'Okay... what film should we watch?' she asked him, lolling across his bare chest, stretching fully for the controls in his bedside cabinet as he was trying his best to pour the drink into the glasses.

   'Have I got a say in it, then?' he said derisively as she pressed the button to raise the flat screen that built into the framework at the foot of the bed - something he rarely used but she was taken with. 

    'Sure!' she said with soundness that only lasted a few seconds. 'Actually, I fancy a horror film.'

    'Och!' Neil cast his eyes to the ceiling. 'Go on, then, just make sure it's more spooky than gory.'

After 15 minutes they agreed upon - with as much false enthusiasm as he could muster - some shit or other; she was so indecisive.  Curtains drawn (by button command) their faces patterned with the flickering actions of the TV screen. Necking sparkling after sparkling glass to help him watch along, he took delight in waiting for a tense bit before before grasping her thigh and shrieking. On reflex response, she slapped his shoulder and called him a bastard; giving him the glory of goading her for the name she'd just called him. 

   Unable to connect with this banal shit-flick, Neil started to throw peanuts towards an empty beer bottle (champagne now arsed) left on a nearby cabinet, and within a couple of minutes the film was forgotten; taking just over ten minutes for him to pop a nut down that glass neck, they both gave a huge drunken cheer at his success. Nut's everywhere, his place really was in an unrecognisable, shambolic state - about as bad as a party of people would leave. But for the moment the drunken old bum cared not a jot. Rather incredulous from this non-shifting, house-proud turgid.  

   Saskia didn't bother to reconnect with the film, instead her amorous side was starting to creep back. But Neil managed to put her advances on hold; intemperance having a meantime say in the matter. It was bliss just shutting out the world - no exits or entries other than them - and holding her as a welcomed sleep washed over them. But that bliss was about to be burst-in on by a forgotten regular.

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Valerie gave Martin at the concierge-desk the usual hello, as she made her way in. In the lift up to the top floor, she wondered what delights would be in Saskia's bedroom this time. Initially, she had questioned the age of her by the debris from her first ever visit there. No doubt there would be washing and ironing awaiting - often having her cause to sniff the garment to discern which was which.  It wasn't the sight of Saskia's bedroom that would cause the most alarm tonight though.

   After letting herself in with her set of keys, the portly charwoman gave an, 'Oi, Oi, Oi,' as her eyes scanned the flat. At first she didn't notice them as she pottered about sorting the mess, but further along the apartment, her eyes locked on a sight that totally threw her.  Father and grown daughter asleep together in the same bed was shocking enough, but the lack of clothes and position they'd glued themselves together in in their drunken slumber, had hands and heads resting in unseemly places. 

    In a panic, she retreated outside still not believing what she'd just witnessed. As much as she tried to convince herself this might be something she'd just mistakenly deduced, the amount of bare skin exposed suggested otherwise. More than simply watching a film had gone on there. Besides - why watch a smaller screen when there was a huge TV in a more than comfortable area for such? No, no. This was far too luculent for her to be wrong.

    Stuck in such a quandary was awful. Instinct wanted her to flee, pretend it never happened, but blind duty kept her there. She needed the wages, and hovering about outside the lift was getting her nowhere. She could knock loudly, or phone in the hope of waking them and pretend she'd simply forgotten her key; let them take it from there. Or she could leave it half an hour and try again in the hope that they'd both be awake by then. Either way, she wasn't sure she could even look them in the eye. Foda. She needed to leave the building. Concierge could notice her hanging about in the hallway at any second and intervene if they felt there may be a problem.

   Valerie marched straight past young Martin on the way out; he simply assumed that her service wasn't needed after all and she was miffed at it. Still not knowing what to do for the best, she knew she had to think fast and by the time she'd walked the length of her cigarette, she decided to leave a text message:

 

Good evening, Mr. Balfour.  I am sorry but I'm not going to manage my shift tonight as one of the grand-kids has taken ill and needs me.  I can manage the same time tomorrow night instead if that's okay with you? 

That would at least give her 24 hours before having to face anyone. She just thanked God that tonight she didn't bring company along; sometimes she had no choice but to bring a very well-behaved grandchild with her. Imaging having to explain that one.

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A few short hours later they rose from bed, Saskia felt, by contrast, hungover the night before the morning after. Downing tons of water, she was trying to quell this sick feeling by making herself some dry toast. Asking if he needed the same, she looked up when he didn't answer.

    'Dad? Toast?' she asked again and watch him throw down his phone on the couch next to him.

    'Thank fuck!' he said.

    'What's up?' she queried, though not really caring as her head felt it was being knocked at by a bunch of hammers.

    'Just got a text from Valerie. Forgot she was supposed to be cleaning the flat tonight while we were at the cinema, didn't we?'

    She ceased the crunching on her butterless toast and felt her heart speed up a little. 'What's it say?'

    'She's just apologising for not being able to make it tonight, sick grandkid or something.'

    Both of them stared at the other, stunned into silence for the moment.  They thanked fate for now, but needed to return to bed. The full impact of this careless slip would most likely hit home harder come the clearer-headed morning.

    As they curled back together under the duvet, Neil hated the feeling of having been that lax, considering this a close one. He'd need to shave a little more thoroughly in future, though. Any closer and tonight's razor could have left one hell of a nasty nick.

     end of  ***HORIZONTAL  TWIST***

***************************************************************************

Tear For Affairs (ch 24)

                    ***TEARS  FOR  AFFAIRS***

💧 The day of January 4th came after its predecessors had dragged their hours into what felt like months getting there. Having arranged with Neil to pick him up at Heathrow (giving Marcus an extra festive day off), Saskia had been checking the monitors nearly every minute since the flight had touched down to find out what gate he would be coming through. 

  Inspecting her face in her hand mirror, (yet again) she was making sure all remaining bruising was still muted under her layer of foundation; thankful that she had been quick with the trusted old bag-of-frozen-peas in reducing the swelling of her lips.

  For the past few days she had practiced in her mind to stick with the champagne-cork story in case he pressed her on it again. And although her mum had apologised for such a vile and violent act, Saskia had been part-relieved at her auntie Corrine's visit, feeling safer with someone else present. That anger had been bad enough whilst sober and she shuddered to think of an even worse outcome had she been annihilated; her mother tended to drink harder over the festive period.

He finally showed up. She had imagined him to have a darker complexion, but his face was just as pale and wan as the winter.

  Forgetting for a moment that he'd travelled with a friend, the urge to run straight to him had to be restrained in light of social decorum. Jumping on him and wrapping her legs round his waist would not be fitting for welcoming any father back home, but it didn't stop her envisioning it. A simple hug came first, then a brief introduction to his friend, finishing with a well-behaved walk to her car. The friend, Vince, would be heading back with them to Neil's apartment for breakfast, and to pick up his car. 

   They chattered over the breakfast bar, but Saskia sat like an agreeable nodding dog, not taking in one bloody word of it, just mentally shooing this Vince out the door. And once Vince set upon his journey home, she set upon Neil the very second the door clicked shut. As he turned, she took a lunge at him, trapping him against the door to crush her lips to his, seeking quick reciprocation.

    'Whoa! Give me a chance to settle in...' he said, once he unplugged her lips from his by jocosely pushing her from him.

    'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I just mega-missed you like crazy.'

    Arms wrapped genteelly around her, and he closed his eyes to breathe in her scent, happy to be feeling her soft cheek on his. 'I mega-missed you, too.'

    'That was a long ten days.' she stated. She had been irrationally fearing he might have had some kind of change of heart (or come to his senses) while away.

    'I know. I'll not bore you with even more golf and stuff, so coffee in bed?' he suggested to her surprise and elation; it gave her blessed relief to know that tumultuous-but-glorious night they last spent together wouldn't be ending as a one-off sweet memory.

   'Really? God, that was easy!' she smiled up at him. 'I'll just, ah... ' Wrinkling her nose up, she thumbed towards the bed and headed its way.   

   'I'm acting barista again, then, am I?' he called after her. 'What about my jet lag... ?

   'Don't forget the extra cream... ' 

   'Aye, aye. Welcome home, Neil!' he grumbled to himself, before dutifully making and carrying the cappuccinos over.

Despite her young body having hankered for him, his fourteen hours of travelling left him exhausted. She watched, with amusement, as he started dozing off, still sitting up; coffee starting to waver about. Sneaking round to his side of the bed, she carefully withdrew the near-full cup from his hands, rousing him briefly till he found himself a comfortable position. Within an hour of reaching home, sleep - and not her - had been the winning contender. And it didn't help that he slept for eighteen hours straight, either; having a 58-year-old in one's love-life could be tested when a younger libido demands. Thank goodness she was patient.

Saskia had thirsted so long for the feel of those silky sheets. Laying on her side, having had Neil moulded closely behind her, she, at last, was staring morning straight in the post-coitus eye: damp and dreary London at that moment could not have looked more resplendent. She felt quite sorry for her little guest room, knowing in all likelihood it would become storage space for clothes and disorder.

   Under this exceptional he's home now high, she (just after declaring that she was going to stay in bed all the lazy-day long) swept back the duvet and leapt from bed to the sound of a tune from the radio. With crazy little dance steps, lacking any pattern or order, she made her way to join him at the breakfast bar, singing unmelodious and dreadfully out of tune. 

   Watching her sway towards him, he couldn't help but shake his head at the killing of this catchy, song. 'I know I say it all the time, but here's another reminder... you're mental, you are,' said while sliding her a steamy mug across the counter. 

  She upped with a yup onto a stool, still writhing to the music; a dimple forming on one of Neil's left cheek as he tried not to permit a smile.

   'What?' she protested through a laugh. 'You have to move as you sing to this one... why are you not?'

   'Because I haven't the foggiest idea who it is, maybe?'

   'How could you not know this one?'

   'Saskia, I know I'm a raptor, but I haven't been on the earth long enough to listen to every song ever written!'

   'You really don't know this one?' 

    'Jesus, woman! You can't pop fifty-pee in my mouth and expect any song to come out!'

  With an elbow up on the worktop, chin resting in hand, she stared steadily at him. 'I could sit here. Just like this. Forever and ever,' she sighed. 'Can't believe we'll be back at work tomorrow.'

   'I know, kiddo. Right...' He gave a loud clap of the hands, '... we're going out for breakfast!' 

   A runny-egg roll sounded delectable after ten days of congee. Besides, they hadn't had a proper chat about how their time apart had gone, and food may help calm down her ebullience - or at least help stop her mouth doing overtime for a bit.  But he couldn't help but love her antics. He knew sharing his bed with her incited her adoration to a fresh new level, so a boost of outdoor normality kept up practical importance. For he had had plenty time in Macau to consider even the simplest of risks; no incriminating texts, outdoor terms of endearments, kisses on the mouth and so on. And absolutely no repeats of discarded knickers in his bed (as she had done at the hotel).  It was imperative too, that no menstrual blood be found on his bedsheets, and that bed of hers would need a slept-in appearance before the cleaner was due.

  He was well aware that affairs of the heart could become cumbersome and mission-like, and that a stain in frilly knickers could leave devastating stains elsewhere. Hey-ho              

  

     end of  **TEARS  FOR  AFFAIRS**

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Bruises Shine (ch23)

              Start of  **Bruises Shine**      

🍵  Saskia could hear the two women giggling away in the steam-filled kitchen. They were already on their third bottle of Prosecco, having popped their first cork at nine in the morning, and she was glad to sneak off from their churlish banter: not being much use in the preparation of Christmas dinner, anyhow.  Cutlery, candles and three crackers had been placed on the table and she considered that enough of a contribution. 

   Her face was still smarting from cuts and bruising, and since the combination of opened curtains and a nagging mother drove her from her bed at an unearthly early hour, her hangover-head wasn't letting up much either. Soon as that dried-out turkey and those fart-stink sprouts were forced down, she'd be straight back under that duvet; pudding could sodding-well wait.

    The Skype call from Neil was due in around five minutes and Saskia hoped the connection would hold, she dearly needed to see his face, hear his voice. The notification-signal ran its tune, and from six thousand miles he was before her - sitting there with a rather fetching oriental crown on. Even so, her heart lurched, and before he spoke she could tell he was somewhat squiffed!

    'Saskia! Merry Christmas, darling, it's good to see you.'

    'Hi, Dad!' she beamed. 'What's that on your head, it's very fetching?'

    He tutted. 'Something that Vince plonked on me this morning and warned me not to take off all day.' He had tufts of hair at each ear curling up comically. 

    She giggled. 'Has he had you playing golf in it?'

    'Every year... ah, y'know what? Bets over!' He removed the festive hat and rubbed his hair in a less- ridiculous mess. 'It's getting late now, anyway.' 

    'You're joking! We've not even had dinner yet!'

    'Big time difference.'

    'So, what's the weather like in Macau?' 

    'Fairly warm during the day, but drops rapidly at night.'

    'We got a layer of snow here... not much, mind.'

    'That's good, that's good.'  Hats. Time. Weather. What she really wanted to say was I wish I was in your arms again, under covers, my head on your chest.

    His hand blocked his face for a bit as he tampered with his laptop, shifting its position, the light from his end was blooming and dying. 'Ah, that's better, can see you more clearly now.' 

    'Thanks for the necklace, by the way, Dad.' 

    'It got there in time, then?' It had been sent from China the day he arrived.

    'Got it on.' She swept her hair back to let him see. 'What does the writing say?' she asked, looking down on it while rubbing fingertips over the pendant. He didn't answer, just let the silence grow. 'Dad?' On looking back up, she could tell by the quizzical face that he'd noticed.

    'Sweetheart... what's happened to your mouth?'

    'Oh, it's nothing.'

    'Doesn't look like nothing.' Her bottom lip was still fairly swollen and discoloured. The punt from her mother's boot had also brought up a bruise on her chin. But heavy make-up cleverly hid her black eye or he'd have been more horrified.

    'It was my own stupid fault,' she said, flicking away her account with a hand. 'I got in the way of someone popping a cork at a mate's house Saturday night. Went out for some air in the garden and on my way back indoors managed to find myself right in the line of fire.'

    As she explained her 'misadventure', he watched her fingers worrying a thread in the bedraggled cuff of her sleeve; still traumatised by the truculent attack a few days ago. He picked up on her voice sounding scratchy and broken, and knew she wasn't giving a true version. He wasn't drunk enough not to notice something was amiss, but he was far enough away not to be able to do anything about it; preferring to believe that she'd maybe had a fall (and not a fight) and was too embarrassed to admit it.

    'You sure it doesn't need checking?'

    'Really, it's fine, it just looks worse than it is.' 

    'Okay kiddo... ' He'd leave things at that.

    They fell into festive and bland chit-chat, heedful of any possible background lurkers. And almost at the point of risking a more personal comment to him, the door to her room crashed open and a head peeked round it. 

    'Saskia, honey-bunch, that's dinner about to be served.'  Immediately she swung down her laptop monitor, sending Neil into complete darkness, but still able to hear the connection wasn't cut.  'Wait till you see how thick your mum's sliced the turkey, it's like a size 10 insole!'

   Shouting out that she'd be there in a minute, Saskia waited until she heard the adjacent door to the toilet lock and flapped Neil back into the picture. 'Sorry, she's a ruddy nightmare.'

   'Friend of your mum's?'

   'I wish! No, it's my Auntie Corrine, she got a last minute flight and landed on our doorstep. Christ, she's a pain... thank God she lives in Spain.'  

   Neil had a vague memory of what Beverly's sister looked like - only having been in her company a handful of family-function times. But if memory serves him well, she was a bit of a rebellious nightmare; someone whose very parents were averse to offer shelter to once she'd left home. 

   Corrine flushed and called for Saskia again, so she thought it best to say her goodbye's and follow her aunt downstairs. 'I've got to go,' she stated reluctantly.

   'Of course, sweetheart,  you go enjoy your dinner... I love you.'

   He kissed his fingertips and touched the cold screen with them. There was a huge flip of the tummy this time as she rounded off her goodbye with a guarded, 'I love you, too.'  She'd have to wait until he next got in touch to ask again what her Chinese symbols declare. But and if her research proved correct she was pretty sure it said, Only Us.

The impure developments between him and Saskia still rushed through his mind and he realised there was no point in trying to make sense of it for there wasn't any.  The intrinsic link they had found, with it's underlay of discovery and curiosity had turned to physical attraction; raw nature eventually played into the rush and brought that long absence to a carnal taboo. Some right-minded people would flee the country after an illegal act - he couldn't wait to get home to commit another one. Makes no sense at all.

But he decided that this, sick, loving, twisted, exciting, brutal, desperate, censurable, describe-it-how-they-may love, would only be initiated on her volition no matter how much his insides ravaged. Her adoration for him now clarified the reason as to why this beautiful creature didn't have, or seem to want to have a boyfriend.

    Neil closed his laptop with a weary sigh; missing her so much.  And he now felt certain of another thing - that she was right. He must have been assiduously burying his true feelings for her in the guise of a father. She was his girl in every unforgivable sense of the word now. Blood was the forbidden partition, so it was imperative that neither got cut.

                End of **Bruises Shine **

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Undone CH22

                  **Start of  UNDONE**

👢Neil's eyes opened to deep city-sounds; instantly reminding him where he was. Curled up close behind him, he felt Saskia's warmth on his back. It took a few moments for memories of the night before to form as he stared at his reflection in the dressing table mirror and shame didn't give any introspective stare back. Turning onto his other side to look at her, a twist of hair was rising then tickling her nose with each out breath. Gently, he slipped from the bed, hooking the wayward strand over her ear before heading for a shower. Glitter had passed onto him from Saskia, giving his chest hair festive sparkle, and he felt a bit sorrowful when water washed the sweet reminder off. Ablution could take care of glitter but was ineffective against unlawful acts - despite how glorious the sin.

As she lay soundly, Neil neatened the mess around him before making her coffee. He'd already been in his room to gather his things and done as much as possible here for her too. Sitting on the edge of the bed, cup in hand, he shook her by the shoulder to rouse her. 
    'Hey, you... rise and shine.'  

    Nothing.

    After another shake, she gave a peeved groan. 'What, already?'

    'Afraid so... '

    Before getting the chance to pass her anything, she gave a sudden-morning wriggle-stretch causing him to stand briskly to keep what little coffee there was inside such teeny cups. Pulling herself to a sitting position, he smiled and bent over her to kiss the top of her head and safely handed over her caffeine boost - accepting it with a coy smile.

    'Thanks. Have you been up long?' she asked, noticing he was already dressed.

    'Long enough... actually we've just got around twenty minutes to vacate our rooms.'

    'Really?' she replied, giving her nose a quick scrunch up. 'Awe, that's a shame... never mind.'

    Neil felt a little flurry rippling across his chest, sure that there was cheeky intent among the sound of her sigh. But given that they were time-limited, he went back into the kitchen area for one last Dolce Gusto, and to help control the pull of taking her once more under those sheets.

    'Hungover at all?' she queried as he made his way to the machine; able yet to see him from the open bedroom door.

    Sticking out his bottom lips, he shrugged. 'Nope.' And nothing else was said. No how are you, no did you sleep well, no boy, you look rough, back; he was functioning too quietly. She was used to his early morning classical radio, (annoying music to rile her groggy head up, before she has the chance to come to) to his rundown on how to make a perfect steadfast breakfast (while slagging off her choice of underage-cereal now adorning his cupboards), to him perusing the paper, adding loud coughs just as she begins to say anything (while pretending not to listen to her). 

   Sitting more upright, she noticed from bed that his bags were sitting right next to the exit door; his coat slung over it sparking unease. But she put doubt aside to remind herself that he always does the mega-organized thing, plus they were pushed for time. As long as he wasn't keen to get out of here and away from the memories of last night; didn't stop the wary churn in her stomach, though. But he was being unusually quiet, shuffling about shiftily, making no effort to converse, and this very pregnant pause (where she was deliberately keeping silent to see how long it would take him to initiate speech) only added concern to the detached demeanor. She knew by his slow, stilted pace alone that something big was on his mind. 

                                      Dear God, don't let it be regret. 

    He'd promised that wasn't going to happen, but she still fretted.

    'Ah, listen, Saski... I don't know how you're gonnae feel about this, but... ' 

                             Here it comes, here it comes, she told herself.

   '... I'd like to drive you straight home myself, and maybe pop in to wish your mum a Merry Christmas?'

   It took a few moments before she reacted, he'd caught her off guard. 'Wow!' she said wide-eyed, shocked by his words but relieved they weren't the one's she'd feared.  'Really?'

   'Aye.' he answered, bemused by the discombobulated expression on her face and tried to jape away any doubt she may have; 'I can remember she used to be a little bit thorny at times, but I'm presuming I'll still keep my head on.'

   Saskia smiled at this; it would be swift decapitation if her mother knew about them, and that gave her a sudden, undisclosed thrill. 'Are you sure about this, Dad?'

   'Been thinking about it for a while. I'd like to, Saskia, but only if you're okay with it yourself.'  Neil supposed it must be rather awkward for her to picture her parents under the same roof for niceties (despite being nowhere near as unseemly as picturing a father and daughter in the same bed). As she ummed and ahhed some more, he held his hands palms up to face her.  'Promise we won't become besties or anything, just a quick hello.' 

    So he was that brazen; willing to face a mother whose daughter he'd just violated? That gave her another quick buzz. 'Okay then.' She grinned at his promise. 'What harm could a few minutes bring, it is Christmas and all that bollocks, I suppose.'

    'Nice way of putting it, but good... although there is one more thing I hope she'll be okay with.'
    Saskia froze a little. 'Okay, what have you done?' she asked nervously, holding him in an accusatory stare. She knew him well enough now to know when his voice carried conscience, and that her mum's fly-off-the-handle moods were getting tougher these days.
    'I forwarded some money to the hospital dealing with your mum's breast cancer and asked them to distribute the money accordingly. Left an email saying that I was a friend of hers.'
    Colour drained instantly from Saskia's face and her shoulders sunk back into her pillows. This generous gesture seemed to bring about an opposite reaction to the one he was expecting.

    'Shit,' he grimaced, 'is that alright? She won't think that I'm interfering or anything?'

    'How much?'
    'Fifty grand.'
    'Fifty?' she whispered aghast. 'Jeez!' Her eyes flitted all over the room, as she appeared even more stunned.

    'Ah... I've gone overboard, haven't I? She doesn't have to know about it, I could mail them again and ask to be kept an anonymous donator?  Och, I should have talked it over with you first.'

    'Well, at least I know why you've been acting a bit odd this past wee while.'

    'I know, but as you say... it is Christmas and all that bollocks... '

    She clicked her tongue and shot him a look; at least the teasing had returned. ' Fifty grand though? I get giddy just saying it... '

    'Well, it's done now, kiddo. Look, my standpoint is that I'm a kind of distraction or break from what's happening at home for you, but I know it can't be easy at times and I just wanted to help somehow. Beverly still doesn't need to know if you think that'll be better?.'

   Saskia locked her thoughts into another short-stare as she considered her home life. If only she could tell him exactly what goes on regarding her mother. But she threw on a joyous smile (before she was tempted to tell all and spoil his Christmas) that made him feel better. 'I'm sure the money will help their various charities, I'm really touched you did that. You may have a bob or two, but you don't give yourself enough personal value. You're amazing, Dad, do you know that?' She looked close to tears, silly and sudden ones for a reason he could not, at the time, fathom but assumed may be pride.    

   'Steady on... ' he said, self-effacingly. He didn't want her to put him high on any pedestal, or make him sound unctuous. The amount was peanuts to him, and he threw a party once a year. So what?

  But she held him in a soul-piercing stare. 'And to think I wasn't even sure about you after Mum told me what went on with Grampa and your dad. It could have stopped us meeting at all.'

  Eyes cast downward, he didn't expect to hear that, but Neil noted that she didn't refer to his father in any respective grandparent mode. Having learned the history between the two, he didn't blame her. What she was saying was true; it could have put her off wanting to know him altogether and then where would he be?  'What changed your mind?' he asked, having a sudden urge to know.

    She glanced away for a few moments to consider it. 'Curiosity. Well, that and needing that sense of belonging, I guess. Besides, it was all those years ago and you are still my Dad... '

   Of course, he was unlike like his father. Despite how imperious he may seem at work, kindness shown in other forms helped confirm that. Neil had decided there was nothing to gain from holding on to the past; it is what it is. It was best to simply get on and enjoy his daughter, you can't fight fate. Under this certitude, however, there was that streak of guilt at his father's corrupt means of climbing the pinnacle of success. That had started to resurface with her presence, and he now understood why Saskia had been such a fierce secret all these years.

    '.... plus, I'm ruddy old enough to make my own mind up, aren't I?'

    'You certainly are.' he said, with a hint of misdeed and gave his eyebrows a teasing lift in telling her so. After last night, he was more than sure of that.

    'Anyway,' she continued, before her flutter-gut started up, just to be unacted upon. 'I know Mum was scared I'd be left on my own - parentless. But I ended with the best backup any daughter could wish for. And some... '

    He stared intensely at that face, unsmiling. Fuck, he loved her so much. So overly, overly much.

    'Right,' she said briskly, putting her cup on the bedside unit, and flinging the covers back, 'I had better get a move on.' 

    Carefree of being bare, she crawled for her night slip that Neil had folded at the foot of the bed, slung it over her shoulder as she headed to the en suite. It took a few cold water splashes to the face to settle the edginess she saw in her reflection. She really didn't know how her mum would react to his presence or his kindness; he was regarded as the big bad ogre sometimes. But nothing could mar the defining moment that unfolded for her last night, and of others still to come. It would a week into January before she saw him again and those feelings would be all she had to see her through. Sod it. This was her time now, not her mother's, and she flitted happily back into the room, kissing his cheek before plunking herself next to him - knees tucked under as usual - on the two-seated sofa.

   'Uh... maybe it's time to start getting dressed, Saskia?'
   'Yeah, will do in a minute.' He really was keen to get going, but there was a personal matter at hand  needed to broached, and Saskia was keen to get it dealt with. 'Well... aren't you going to ask, me?'

  'Ask you, what?'           

  'What every man worries about the next morning. It was what I thought your strange quietness was all about this morning, well that and you fucking off and dumping me... '

   'Don't be silly... ' he was quick to allay such a thought.

   'Let's not beat about the bush, then, just get it over with, it's bound to have concerned you?' A certain something needed to be faced, granted, and Neil was intending to do so on the drive to her house, but she wanted it over with now.  'But there's no chance we're gonna have a two-headed baby.' 

   He tutted and gave her a scornful look. 'Is that so?' God, her ways could be seriously incorrigible.  'But you know what I mean, and if you and me - in future - are gonna...' His hand was flicking awkwardly back and forth in a me-to-you motion, ' you know... be together, we'll need to consider—'

   She held her bottom lip in a light, lopsided bite, relishing his babbling. As much as the idea of toying with him during this was tempting, she had to allay any doubts. 

   'Right... ' she said, holding her left arm poker straight, palm facing upwards. She tapped at a point in her inner arm a few inches along from her armpit. '... see that little scar?'

    He peered closer. 'Oh, aye... that wee thing there?'
    'Well, there's an implant under it stopping me from getting pregnant - something I can assure you is not on the cards for a loooooong time, most likely never at all, I'm really not maternal. Nope. I prefer the ones you can return.'

   'But, it's foolproof?'

   'Totally. It lasts five years and I've had it about eighteen months now...  you can press it if you like?' She took Neil's hand and guided a fingertip over for a feel for himself.  'I get reminded after four years that it's potency has a year to go.' 

   'And then?'

   'And then I pop in for a chat with the doctor, tell him I want another one and bingo; one less fear to to encumber my waistline with!' She gripped his hand reassuringly within her own two and rested it on her knee. 'Really, we're fine. There are options anyhow, but I've had no accidents so far, and as hard as it may be to hear - your little angel has had umpteen one night stands.'

  Tipping his gaze to the floor for a bit, he had long worked that one out for himself; it would take a hardcore priest to refuse a night with her. But he felt relieved all the same that protection was in order. Last night there was no thinking time and thankfully no immediate action was required.

  To help wash away the last of his doubts she freed his hand from hers, and placed a reassuring kiss to his lips and every molecule within him, reacting as they must. 

    From this point onwards, they began sorting out their nocuous and incestuous journey, yet it didn't feel like it. Close to an illicit affair, perhaps, but why didn't alarm bells ring like fuck in his ear, or toil in his grey matter telling him to split, to run and never come back? No matter how this love represented itself, he knew it still wouldn't alter its upmost, inescapable fact.

   'What we're doing, Saskia, we know what it is, don't we?'

   'Yes.' she replied, jerking up her chin in bold defiance. 'Ours. That's what it is. Yours and mine. Exactly that.' 

   He gave a slow, gentle smile in acceptance of this as she she placed a palm on his cheek. 'Take it easy, Raptor, just remember I love you.' she said, with her thumb rubbing over his cheek..

   He took her hand from his face and kissed it, hopelessly attuned. 'I love you, too.'  

   It felt sweetly and incurably bizarre how a normal saying had taken on an extra meaning. Everyday I love you's were also repeated under far deeper terms; he'd transmuted to both father and lover overnight. And he was right, it will be scaring him being her lover; she could taste fear on his lips ever so mildly. This she needed to chase that away before he took it abroad with him to fester.

   'Now... ' she chirped, looking at him with a mischievously alluring expression. A mood lightener was  needed and if he was in, he was all in; there was no reason why she and her nonsensical motives should be any easier on him, 'if only you had woken me up ten minutes earlier... ' She leaned and whispered in his ear, '...you could be joining me.'  Shooting off for the quickest shower ever, she left him with his insides stirring; yet another thing to join her growing box of attributes. She was a sexual tease.

   'Don't do this to me girl...' he said out of her earshot, cursing the clock. As much as the thought of her words sweetened the sole, they had no option but to take grasp of their plans for the day; she was expected home soon, and he had to finalise his Christmas plans with his friend. It was going to be a long two weeks.

By the time Saskia had showered and dressed, she tutted and shook her head at Neil when she saw the room in even more orderly shape (curtain pleats tugged and equally spaced, plumped up cushions, glasses washed and put away etc). Needless stuff. He literally must be every maid's ideal guest.

    'Ready to visit your ex, then?' Saskia teased, while Neil simply harrumphed.

    He had just placed their bags outside the doorframe - triggering the automatic lock out function - when he realised Saskia had raced back over to the foot of the bed, feeling frantically under the covers. He gave a what-the-fuck gesture until she held up her knickers, stretching them by the waist, and made them do a little 'dance' for him before tucking them into her pocket with a jocular grin. That girl and her raillery; all he had to do was allow the door to swing shut and she'd need a member of staff to let her out!

   'You do,' he said in absolute agreement with himself, 'you really do do my head in... ' 

   'Well, I couldn't just leave them there, could I?' she said, justifiably. 

   She could have. They'd go arm's length straight in the bin. Anyone finding them would not envision the real story they'd tell. But at least, he reasoned, she hadn't exposed them to him in the corridor where cameras loomed; Christ, they would have to manage their future moves carefully. But as they were heading to the foyer she was smart enough to know that around others she had to be on her best, non-loquacious behaviour around Neil's continuing gentility. 

                               *                                            *                                          *

The journey home was relatively the same; her prattling away in Saskia-psychobabble, Neil smiling throughout it, resisting yet another reminder that he mostly gives her peace to drive. But the one-sided conversing had to drop once he needed help with directions. 

   The deal she had made with her mother was not to get too hungover as they were to meet up with friends for a light lunch and stocking-filler shopping. But a hangover was all that Beverly was expecting Saskia to bring back with her, and nerves kicked in a little bit as to how her mother would react at seeing him, the closer they got to home.

    Driving further into this rather soggy-looking suburbia, Neil customarily clocked the house-types down Furtham Road. Ghastly ones with red roof slates and plastic piping; a vast downsize also since his days of dating Beverly. He wouldn't quite have expected her to live happily in a semi-detached either, when compared to the house she was raised in; its large back garden was this property's saving grace. Everything looked bigger in the photo's from Saskia's album. While cameras are supposed to never lie, they can visually deceive. Inside, however, the décor was fresh, modern and comfortably habitable.

The near-silent engine of Neil's Mercedes-Benz parked up into the drive, and he retrieved a Christmas bouquet they'd stopped off to buy from the rear seat. Once she retrieved her suitcase from the boot, Saskia led Neil round the back and entered the house via the glass patio door.  On hearing the slide from the rails, Beverly headed to the kitchen, struggling with putting in an earring and not aware at first that her daughter had company.

   'Hope you're not too hungover. Senga's having to bring that bloody brat nephew with her to lunch until his dad's home, and you know how he pesters the life out of— '  In startlement at seeing him stood there with Saskia, she let the back of the earring fall to the floor causing the hoop to hang precariously from the lobe. 'Neil... ?' 

    'Hi, Beverly,' he smiled. 

    Her head drew back quickly, as if she didn't quite believe what she was seeing. 'My, my!'

    Nodding towards her, he quite genuinely said, 'You're looking good.' 

    It was true. Her shortish hair had grown back sufficiently; makeup and complexion was rather flattering.
    'Oh, thank you. Yeah, treatment eventually paid off, so I'm on a bit of an even keel for now.'
    'Dad's just popped in to wish you a merry Christmas.' Saskia hurriedly explained, parking herself upon a nearby stool.
    'Oh aye, ah... ' Neil stepped forward and pecked the side of her cheek. 'Merry Christmas, Beverly... ' he said, and took a step back before realising the flowers were still in his hand. 'Oh, these are for you too,' he said. Taking a second step forward to hand over the flowers, Saskia was finding mirth in his gaucherie.

   Beverly gave Saskia a quick glance and managed to muster up a little smile herself.  'Oh that's sweet, but you really shouldn't have.'

    'Hope you like them. Mind you, I did have a little helper in choosing them,' he nodded to Saskia, 

    'Dad!' she protested loudly, 'you're making me sound as if I'm under ten!'

    He gave a deliberate cough into his clutched hand and mumbled a quip that Beverly didn't get. Something covert and making sense only to them as they continued to exchange a string of quips and giggles. 

    'Well, thank you, anyway Neil,' Beverly said, interrupting their tete a tete. paying close attention to the palling up between them. 'I'm guessing it was a good night then?'

    You better believe it, Saskia inwardly said to herself, having to bite her bottom lip harder to keep her thoughts unsullied.  'Amazing night. I'll tell you all about it at lunch.'  Omitting a few details of course. 'Plenty photos.'
    Then a strained silence hung in the room before Beverly broke it. 'Where are my manners! Can I offer you a coffee, Neil?'  She turned and laid the bouquet down gently by the sink. 

    'No, no,' he answered straight back, 'I'll let you get on with your day.' He went over to Saskia and kissed the top of her yet-glittersome hair, then pointed at her. 'I'll Skype you Christmas day, round about noon?'

    'Yeah, got it. Bye Dad'
    With a farewell smile headed Beverly's way, he slid open the patio door he'd entered by and left.

    On his drive home, he felt rather deflated about the length of time he'd be away, despite it usually being the golfing highlight of his year. Letting his mind drift over the events of last night, he gave a fleetingly perverse thought to the fact that he must be one of the few men who had actually (as opposed to that fantasied about) tried both mother and daughter - albeit thirty years apart and not in the same bed. He suddenly berated himself for letting such a thought surface. But still, he must be one of the very few.

           *                 *                *               *                *                *                *                *

Beverly stood with hands on her hips, while Saskia sat almost inanimate on her seat, feeling her mum's fiery glare upon her. She was reluctant to look her in the eye.

   'What the fuck!?'
    Saskia gave an exasperated sigh. 'What was I supposed to do? He just wanted to wish you well, see how you were doing.'

    'Why, for God's sake? Surely you tell him that stuff if he asks?'

    'Maybe he wanted to see for himself.'

    Beverly's face was beginning to glow pink quickly under her makeup. 'But you knew not to... I stressed and better stressed never to bring him here, didn't I?

    'So a two minute drop by is really that hard to deal with, is it?'

    'Yeah, especially one without warning.'

    'It was flung upon me out of the blue, Mum.'

    'A quick phone call could have deterred it.'

    'This is ridiculous, he was hardly here five minutes. I don't know what all the fuss is about.'

    'Oh, don't you? Do you need another reminder then, about—'

    'Christ, Mum, there's no pleasing you, is there?' Saskia slid from the stool to stand face to face, giving her mum the one pivotal fact that she seemed to be forgetting. 'It's you that needs reminding. Me and him is all down to you. You started it. You wanted this!'

    'You know the score, Saskia... '

    This ranting was doing Saskia's brains in. Her mum's ridiculous reaction, with its ever-increasing tone was bringing her post-party headache to throb and pound past bearing point; her newfound happiness and loved-up fuzz being torn at bit by bit. Whatever had gone on in her mother's past to make such hatred spilled, Neil was no ogre; it was unfair of Beverly to disrespect him like that. Take from him his riches and systematic businesslike head, and you'll find a man with flaws and vulnerabilities, humor and decorum, aches and tender spots, too. 

    'Yes, I do, mum.'  And reality suddenly gripped in a harsh reminder of the separate journeys each were undertaking. 'But whatever happened between you both, I can assure you he's not like that now.' 

    Beverly sneered, ridicule pasted all over her face as she slowly shook her head.  'You amaze me at times, Saskia... '

   'For what? Making my own mind up for a change? He's really not that bad a person, Mum.'  Saskia had arrived at that conclusion almost from the off, and right now she would love to sling his huge donation made that morning, straight in her face. But she couldn't. That would only complicate and exacerbate things. Regarding the Neil Balfour she knew, she was increasingly struggling with her mother's verbal destruction of him.

    'Jesus....can you not just listen to yourself!'

    'Listen to myself?' Saskia incredulously shouted back at her, arms gesticulating wildly. 'Well who else do I have, because you never want to listen to anything I've got to say regarding him and you never ask. You threw me at him to just get on with it!'

    A  laugh, loud and bitter, erupted from Beverly,  'Aw, listen to daddy's little girl. It's probably a blessing your Grampa's not here to listen to this!'

    Fuck it, Saskia said to herself. Her grandfather was now being used as a weapon, and she knew by habit that a mention of him was often setting the scene for things to turn ugly. Not wanting to risk that possibility, Saskia made her way to the stairs. 'Sorry Mum, but you'll have to meet Senga yourself today, I'm going to bed.'

    'No you're not,' Beverly tagged directly behind her, 'you're not leaving me on my own with that kid in tow!'

    Stopping on the bottom step, Saskia swung round. 'This'll just get worse if I go... you'll not drop this.'

    'What do you mean?'

    'You're dragging Grampa into things far too often now, it's getting too much.'

    'Too much? You know how he died! So... you're gonna give up on him this quick are you? Or should we just forget he even existed?'

   'Of course not...' Saskia sighed and sat down in frustration onto the stairs, '... but I'm not sure if blame's being sent in the right direction anymore....or should even be there at all.'

   'Really?' Beverly stared wide eyed and slack-jawed at her, and yet again Saskia felt that her words were diffident. She needed to put it to her assertively; as it really is.

   'Mum, I'm fed up with the foul atmosphere in here, I've put up with it for months now. I know it's been a tough time for you, but it's not anybody's fault that Grampa died.'

                        Saskia poked a finger at her mum,

                        'Not your fault.'

                        Then on herself, firmly in the chest;

                        'Not my fault.'

                        Then pointed at the door Neil left through;

                        'And not his fault, okay?'

   The look that Saskia was given in response of her brave, overdue words, robbed her of breath and she froze. 

    'What did you say?' Beverly asked in a quiet snarl, then screamed vehemently, 'WHAT DID YOU FUCKING SAY..!?' Then she erupted.
   An anger to match such contorted, formidable features surged through her and before Saskia had the chance to flee, her mother struck a lightening-fast, fisted blow to her head, followed by a harsh tug of her hair as she tried to stand. Held facedown by the back of her head, Beverly shouted over Saskia's pleas;
    'Don't you dare try to excuse him, it was him and his bastard father that killed your Grampa! Do you fucking hear me?'
    As a terrified and shocked Saskia was trying to beg for release from this inconceivable and apoplectic outburst, she was tasting blood in her mouth by kicks from her mother's boots, all the while ranting her fury. And the instant the kicks stopped, punches pummeled over her head, despite trying her best to shield.  Screams and pleas proved useless, and only when Beverly could manage no more due to exhaustion did she ease up; taking off and leaving Saskia in a crumpled heap. 

   Never before had she been exposed to such brutality from her mum and it scared the living daylights out of her. Where did that violent strength come from? Blood stains and clustered rasps of hair lay thick at the foot of the stairs, but Beverly never gave them a second glance as she ventured out, wearing different earrings.

In a slow and painful crawl on her elbows, she made it to her room. Pulling herself onto her bed, blood still streamed from her nose, so she shook the pillow out of its case and scrunched it to her face. Lowering it a few moments later, she braved a glance in the mirror and sobbed even heartier, each tear begging for Neil. She knew if she called him right now, he would postpone his break. But she couldn't. Just as the revering love for him must be kept secret, just as vitally this beating never happened. 

                   **End of   UNDONE**

More Than Molecules (CH21 pt 2)

 *** MORE  THAN  MOLECULES***(pt2)

🏩 With the covers on the bed peeled back, Saskia then stood by the bedroom window. The neon signage from the department store across the road threw a blue aura over her outline, as she vacantly focused on street-traffic in motion; breathing easier once she heard the click of the door shutting. He dimmed the light and she heard the flapping sounds of him undressing.  

   Feeling his presence close in behind her, she shivered delightfully as his hands rested on her shoulders. Shrugging up, she crossed her arms and slid her hands up to grasp his. She couldn't speak, just closed her eyes for a few moments, caressing his long, gnarled fingers, and when she did find her tongue, she put forth a jape. Well, what kind of words are spoken before such consanguine iniquity anyhow?

   'You'd better not have socks or boxers still on... '

   'Oi!' He riposted by giving her a quick playful dig in the side from which she buckled, then swung round to face him. The light at its lowest power, filled the room enough to yet make out his features; the slight bump of his nose, his padded bottom lip, the glint in his eyes and the creases around them. Gently she picked at some wisps that had dropped from his hairline, but was stopped by the sudden motion of him pulling off her night slip, casting it to the floor.

   'This is madness,' he said, though fire raged in his belly. 'Sure you want this?'

   She answered his question not by yes or no, but with, 'You've no idea how deeply I love you.'

   Standing there with his petite, naked emblem, he answered, irrevocably, 'Yes I do.' 

   And hadn't it just shown?

With his hands on her hipbones, he backed her up until her calves touched the edge of the bed where they both sat down facing one another. Saskia leaned in to kiss him once, then shuffled herself over near the middle, laying her head on a pillow. Outstretching a hand, bidding him to join her, he - with no thought now to fear or consequence - sleekly crept along until he was directly above, looking down at her; a blue glow outlining them down their right side. 

   Her hand reached and curved round the nape of his neck to draw him down to her lips, releasing a heavy groan when she felt on her inner thighs that he was hard already; surreal confirmation that this was really happening.  

   Salacious kisses skyrocketed her passion as fingers swept over his back - resisting the want to glide a hand down her belly and grasp him. Instead, she held him by the rump to keep him there. But just as her murmuring and sighs were mounting, he slid off her body and onto his side.

  The fear that he was about to abandon the bed was quelled as light fingertips started skimming between her breasts and downwards. She made beautiful viewing - as structurally perfect as a female could be. But his stroking swept lightly away before fingers made any deep intimate contact. Her groans in protestation to this, and his instinctual prudence, had him finding her lips again, his hand drifting down her thigh in slow curved strokes. This time it slid back up, finding and twisting his fingers in the elastic of her briefs, but she had no patience for any explorative pissing-about and readily raised her knees to help slip them off.  It was more than blissful to feel his weight upon her again, and it took hardly any caressing before moans increased, turning to intangible whispers in desperation to be penetrated. Though but a few minutes had passed, the overall need had felt long enough .  'Please... ' she urged. 

    Looking down on his little creation, begging to be violated, it didn't feel like the sin of the century was about to be committed as he scooped an arm under her to pull her groin towards his and pushed himself inside. The contact caused her fingers to scrunch up the sheet at her sides, arching her back as she inhaled deeply, then gasped out loud in sheer relief when he started to take slow and precise movements, propping himself up with a flat hand either side of her head to deepen the sensation.

  Increasing rhythm soon brought about heavy gasps to her own rocking, gyrating hips that doubled the euphoria and he dropped his body on to hers, his breathing now coming in fast and furious bursts. Then, with a swift forward movement, he grabbed her behind each knee and bore down hard, groaning as his orgasm hurled.

  There. Now she had won her inner battle and, at last, gained herself that hard-earnt and momentous end result.

Neil withdrew from her, flopping onto his back, reaching out to cosy her to him. With that pretty little head resting on the rise and fall of his chest, he stroked her hair but had become fairly quiet. 

    'Are you okay?' she asked him in a concerned whisper.

    'Aye... ' he says in his native accent; usually used to confirm anything she may doubt. 'You?'

    'Me, what?'

    'I'm asking if you're okay back?'

    'Did the last few minutes not happen to you, then?' she says in an are you kidding me tone. 'I'm more than okay, I'm in Wonderland.'

   He took a few seconds to digest her unexpected reply. 'Where, what..?' he mused, 'I've heard it called a few things before, but never that...  it's not even a real place!'

   'Neither's Cloud number 9, or over the moon, but I'm making my way there next... you could come too if you like, there's plenty room.'

   'Oh, is there, now?' That was it. She was off... off to La-La Saskia-analogy Land.

   'And you can travel for free.'

   'Is that because I'm a raptor and exempt, perhaps?' He knew the teasing operation of her mind quite well now.

   'What! The thought never crossed my mind... bloody wish it had though.'

   As they buzzed and radiated in after-sex happy and gibberish talk, it didn't seem as if anyone had just entered into something that was morally and lawfully repugnant. Neil lay there, dry and content in this outré afterglow with its dark cloud of taboo raining down. But anywhere - real or fictional - he knew he'd never go to the ends of the earth without her now.

   'My God, girl, can't you at least wait till morning to do my head in?' 

  Once the jesting settled down, tiredness was taking over in lengthier silences. She pulled from him and sat up. 'You really are okay, aren't you?' she asked, seeking this particular affirmation once more.

   He smiled up at her, tired but content. 'C'mere,' he said, snuggling her back down and placing his chin on the top of her head. With a couple of reassuring, light-hearted quick-squashes, he told her without contrition,

   'Of course, I'm okay. I always am with you.' 

   Saskia prayed that he really meant that. 'Promise me there won't be any regrets in the morning?'

   He sighed. 'In case you weren't aware, it's more or less morning now.'

   'Yeah, but I mean in the real morning.' 

   'I know what you mean. Stop fretting. We're okay.'

   This night had been the result she'd hankered after for so long, and the wet from his sperm felt under her bum was her little patch of victory. She'd do anything to keep it this way. Anything.

    Both now struggling to keep their eyes open. 'Will it scare you?'' she asked sleepily, hanging on yet to this earlier comment in the kitchenette; her gambit to continued happiness.  
    'Will what scare me?' 
    'Becoming my lover.' 

    He was too tired to vision what lay ahead, but not for one moment did Neil think that this wouldn't happen again. But she would have to continue taking the leading role, and any corporeal moves would solely be in deference to her wishes. It had been fairly easy casting out the wrongs, or any what-ifs, but right now he was simply revelling in just having her in his arms. He had been snared, embroiled and irredeemably not caring about the outside world, only this room and its indecorous succulence.

    'You're practically my life now, Saskia, every aspect of it.'

    That was as good an answer as she needed. 'I can't believe I was really going to leave and never see you again... ' she whispered, afraid to listen to the words said aloud.
    His grip around her tightened, crushing every last thought of losing her to the bone. If in his bed was the way to keep her in his life, then the world and its damnatory assessments could go take a fuck to itself. She was right... this was theirs and no-one else's.

The stupid, stupid man.    

                                                                   
end of **MORE THAN MOLECULES** (pt2)

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More Than Molecules (CH20 pt1)

 ***MORE  THAN  MOLECULES***(pt1)

💥  Neil was left staring at the door and quickly raised a hand to cover his mouth, dragging it down  till it rested on his throat. He turned and leaned back, needing the door for support. Her words spent a heavy few moments resonating in his head. Now he understood the reason for her capricious manner, and he worried even more that she would pull an all-nighter and leave early; slipping away without his knowledge. Right now, though, his silence had raised the hope that he was gone, so despondency spiked by the tap on the door.

   'Saskia.'

    No reply.

    'C'mon. Open the door. I'm not leaving till you do.'
    Still nothing.
    'I mean it.'

 Slowly the door slid open and she met him with a flush in her cheeks. Looking solidly at him, she asked,  'Are you sure you even want to hear this?'

    'I want to know what's going on. Tell me. As best you can.'  Whatever emerges from this conversation, he wasn't going to belittle her emotions, and cleared space for him to enter.

   Stepping in, he shut the door quietly as she walked ahead. Christmas sparkles on her shoulders still winked away under the kitchenette spotlights as she poured them drinks. What a turnabout to such a successful night. Less than an hour ago they had been dancing affectionately - now he was stunned, uneasy, tense.

   Taking his drink from her, he slowly sat down on the small sofa while she huddled up on the chair across from him; knees drawn up, chin sitting on her kneecaps. Those perky little green-painted toenails peeked brightly from the hem of her night slip, and Neil focused on them, awaiting her words. But each brave breath she drew in was being sighed to the ceiling. It was not so much as finding the right words to say, but the guts to say them at all.

Neil bowed his head, clasping his fingers ever tighter. The disclosure of such a revelation - as he grasped what it meant - was probably yet not fully registering. Complications were things he never tolerated for long, but he didn't know how to title this one since it wasn't just everyday stuff. She would have to be the one to speak first.

    'Well... say something,' he implored.

    Keeping her focus downward too, Saskia took a huge swig of alcohol despite knowing it wouldn't help; it hadn't all night. Now she would have to find boot intrepidity, boot into gear, and give it to him straight and wholeheartedly; even if the words she was about to drop made the ceiling cave in.

    'It's hard, but I'll try...fuck, this will sound crazy.' A few measured breaths, then she began, 'I've adored you from the outset. After our very first meeting in the park, I went home the happiest girl in the world. We clicked and I knew we'd get on and you probably gathered that fairly quickly, too.  Gradually though, things changed for me the more of you I saw. I tried to reason with myself that it was just the excitement of discovering you and nothing else. But I knew exactly what had built, despite struggling like mad to not let it happen but ' she shook her head, with hopelessness,  'it has... beyond a shadow of a doubt. My feelings just went haywire. ' 

   'What sort of feelings have gone haywire? I need a bit of help, here...' 

   'Bit of help?' she said, with a wavering smile. 'That's what I tell myself I must need every day, too.' 

   'Why?'

    'Because it's hard to think of you in a sensual light as well as in a father capacity.'

   As she lifted her head to look at him, his gaze wandered from her for a few moments then settled back again, but he didn't know quite how to ask her, but let her talk on. 'I know I never did or said anything directly about it before now, and I hate myself for allowing it to happen.'

   'Let what happen?'

   She averted his eyes by laying her head sideways her knees and huddled herself even tighter. 'You must know, Dad... '

   Neil's breathing shallowed as he thought she was about to bite the God-forsaken bullet and say it. So far he hadn't had the exact conformation to what feelings she was referring to, and as hard and unnerving it will be to hear out loud, he needed that precise clarity. Clearing his throat, he then asked in a slow measured pace,  'So, you're saying you're in love with me, then, Saskia?'

    She lifted her chin and looked him dead in the eye. 'Yes.' That one simple word made his stomach lurch.  'Yes, I am - and with bigger fecking bells on than a church on a Sunday at that!'  

   Even now, under the enormity of such a confession, her choice of words made him smile; his wee girl with the comical nature. Her comment, made out of nervousness, was also given to accentuate how deeply she meant it.  'This is far more intense.' She closed her eyes, 'Like nothing else I've come up 

against before...'

    Of course something must be more intense. How many daughters declare this kind of wanton stuff to their father?

 'But, how do you know it's the kind of love you say it is?' he probed, with a strained smile; he didn't want to unintentionally vilify her, despite his growing discomfort.  'Maybe the mix of the evening and the celebrations have been a bit overwhelming for you?'  At first he considered this might all be down to Julia having been aversive to her earlier on, but all Julia had done was helping to bring something more damning to the fore.

   Saskia gave a frustrated sigh. She knew this wouldn't be easy, so he would have to listen up.

   'Okay, then. So where d'you want you me to start? With the simple stuff, the how's' and why's;  like how happy I get when I know I'm seeing you later and how excited and safe I feel when I do. And for daft things like having in my favourite ice cream but always joking that you forgot to buy it in. Remembering bands I like but you hate, and always taking that interest in me. Making sacrifices and continuously arranging some new place to see, to visit, to get drunk in. And the pride I feel when we link arms outside makes me wish I was only ever in your company. We always have a laugh, even though I dread the one you have when I mess up and embarrass myself. Even the smile that fans out laughter lines around your eyes never fail to set off that weird wriggly worm under my ribcage.'

   She took a little pause. This did sound like a form of worship that she perhaps was taking out of context.

     'I imagine most daughters idolise their fathers, Saskia, there's that—' 

     'Or do you want to hear the deeper stuff that gets me?' she interrupted loudly, clamming him right up.       'Like adoring the way your eyes never leave mine as you listen to me intently?  How giddy I get when you instigate cuddles that make my heart pound, wishing you'd crush me just that bit tighter.  Or that tingle I feel when you brush past me, kiss my cheek, stroke my face? Or the weird and wonderful sensation I get all down my back when you tease out hair stuck down my collar and you brush it neater with your fingers. When you stand behind me I imagine the hands that rest on my shoulders creeping lower and lower, making their way to my thighs.  How I'd love to run a hand down the hairs on your calves when you're fresh from the shower and sit next to me. I picture my hand slipping under the fold in your dressing gown with every good morning hug to see how your heartbeat would react to it being there... Mostly I yearn to get into that fucker of a giant bed. You're the security blanket I long to get under, and it tears me to pieces when we say goodnight and head for separate rooms.  I'm left with my insides contracting, Dad. I feel safe and warm with you, as though nothing bad can happen yet I'm sitting here telling you this.  I feel you were brought into my life, made just for me. I know every daughter should be close to their father. Difference is, I need mine in his entirety.'

   Her tenacious words came out like bullets; straight-aimed and firing right into his soul. Words he should never have heard but she had suppressed for far too long. 

   Neil drew his look from her face to his shoes. Dumbstruck, conflicted, and incapable of formulating a response right now. If only this had been something that would wear off with the alcohol.

   'Jesus, Saskia...'

   'I've been in love before, and it's back with a vengeance and other heady stuff that won't sod off. Oh, I've blamed other things for sending all that adrenaline or doped-up hormones or whatever to whoosh around me, but it's you. I love you in a most agonising way.'

   He felt his own sudden or whatever rush flow through his veins and had to use laboured breathing to help calm it. A tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away before he noticed,  'Finding you was the best and worst thing to happen to me and there's no point in trying to reason with it, reminding myself you're my dad makes no difference. I've grown up feelings that headed in the wrong direction and I can't divert them.' 

   He said something intangible in a muffled whisper, through shock, yet as beyond comprehension as it seemed, and as hard as this was to hear, he felt compelled to know more. 'So what brought it all out, what was so different about tonight?'

 'Tonight?' Shaking her head lightly, a faint smile playing across her lips. 'As I said, I was jealous. I've spent most of my evening wondering if every pretty - and not so pretty - woman had bedded you and I couldn't handle it. I still can't.'  The old green-eyed monster got the better of her, turning bitter after all those weeks of pining. 'I'm sorry. I just wish that bloody taxi had come earlier. I'd be home right now and you'd be spared this. I'm surprised you haven't taken off already. Cut off all ties. I wouldn't blame you if you did.'

    She was right. The best thing to do would be for him to go. Leave. The hotel, the city, the country, the universe. But he wasn't prepared for such abandonment. 'I'm not gonna do that, Saskia.'

    'Why not? It was what I was gonna do.'
    'Whatever's going on, you still need me right now.'

    'Really? How can you even think like that? I'm amazed you're still sitting here in front of me.' She blinked her eyes wide for a second, wriggling her toes and hugging herself tighter. 'Pity I didn't just come with a demand for back pocket-money after all these years, eh?' 

   As hurt as he felt at not having had the chance to have known her since birth, she was unequivocally the most important person to him. He only had to look at her face to know that she had opened a part of his heart that he never knew existed. Someone real to smile worry over, to love and lay down his life for; his much needed kick up the arse, and it hurt knowing he was the cause of her pain right now. Uneasiness radiated off him as he shuffled tensely in his seat; at a lost for what to say or do.

     'I was never trying to complicate things, sweetheart...' As much as he wanted to hug her, he was emotionally diffident about doing so right then. In layman's terms she was saying she wanted to fuck her father.

    'I know. I wasn't either.' Saskia sprung quickly from her chair, startling Neil by grabbing his glass for refills. 'Now look where it's got me...' 

   Silence took over as she topped up their drinks; three miniatures per glass. Saskia was starting  to feel the alcohol kick in now; as if it had waited all night to apply its courage when it really mattered. But she prayed he was giving precedence to each and every word she had strived to get out, for there was a matter of resolve to face, and she'd need to keep that courage undiluted while he was still there.

   Handing him his glass from over his shoulder, she told him that she wished it had gotten him somewhere too. She slowly sat back down in her chair, keeping eye contact solid as she did so, awaiting his reply. The statement had thrown him; in essence this was a test on what could be done about it.

   'What do you mean you wish it had got me somewhere too?' He asked with pulsating building up in his ear.

    Another huge glug from the glass, and she said, 'Help me here, Dad. Tell me I've not been imagining it.'

   'Imagining what?' He gave a slacked-jaw gesture, as if he was totally in the dark.

   Taking a moment to consider all those heady, irresistible flirtations that had a habit - mostly on her part - of growing out of hand, she smiled. 'You must have picked up on something, somewhere along the line?' 

  'Saskia,' he said, leaning forward to put his drink on the table, 'I think we should stop drinking,' 

  'Is that it? A last ditch attempt at blaming the booze. Down the sink now and things will be fine by morning... . she sung the last line ridiculously snobbish.

    He hung his head; he knew normality would never return again.

   'C'mon Dad...you know we've had moments. Awkward, silly ones sometimes, but we've been there.'         Although these 'moments' felt like they had sparked little on his return, she couldn't accept that he wasn't cognizant or intuitive to anything. While she felt desire so strong, he didn't feel a single tug back? Really?

 His silence for a few extended seconds may not have been a confession, all she sought was a sign, however small, it was there, but I would say we were pretty close was all he reasoned with.

    Saskia licked her lips, rolled her eyes and started to twirl the ends of her hair. 'Pretty close?' she mimicked, feeling narkier the more he repudiated. 'That the full shebang is it?' 

    'I don't know what else, I can say...or should say?'

    'Oh, for fuck's sake!' she near shouted, get narkier with each repudiation. 'I'll try it this way, shall I, you might get it now...You can't keep denial in a golf ball, smack it down a hole and leave it there. You always need it back, and it's down to you where it next goes... ' 

   Not another of her weird analogies, but he kind of knew what she was trying to say. 

   With brows knitted tightly, voice near pleading she continued. 'Just think of all that touchy-feely stuff; snuggling close, my legs over your thighs on the sofa when watching telly; me walking round half-naked wearing next to nothing but a smile? I've tried passing the boundary levels with you and you've been so bloody accepting, so refined. All I wanted was you to just react to it!'

    'React, how?' His voice started to raise, too; glad she hadn't poured the drinks down the sink after all.  'I couldn't tell as a dad if I should have a relaxed attitude about those kind of things - you seem to have! Christ, Saskia, I thought I was doing the father thing okay, I hardly had time to adjust. I've really only just found you, give me some leeway here, will you!' 

    'I know, I'm sorry... ' she said softly, starting to mollify; this would have been the last thing he would have expected tonight,  '... but I was never your little girl. You never had a baby girl, you got a grown one with restless feelings and prurience - one who never got the chance to know you until now. We met as adults, Dad, and that wasn't my fault.'  With glistening eyes forming and a tingle in her chest, she was striving hard not to cry.

     He knew, of course, they weren't a unique case. All over the world, people were meeting up with relatives they never knew about or thought were lost; all emerging from obscurity. That first time he saw her coming down those few stairs at the coffee bar was quite a feeling - an overwhelming jumble of strange emotions all fighting for first place. Who'd have thought a mere eight months later she'd be knocking him into a psychological whirlwind by her falling in love with him. She broke her short pause by stating an undeniable fait accompli;

   'We've got to remember our circumstances were thrown upon us, weren't they?' 
    'Aye,' this he had to agree with, 'they were.'

     Neil felt he was teetering on the edge of insanity, knowing where this proscribed 'reasoning' was heading, and he couldn't quite shift this God-awful awareness of nervous excitement stirring and she was about to hit him further to his fundamental core. 

   'I know there's a part of you that feels how I feel, Dad, because you tried to run away too.'

   'When?'

   'That very first time when I chased after you with the photo album, and you've shaped yourself into normal-dad-mode since. Just be honest with yourself.' 

    His moist brow furrowed and for a few moments he held her gaze, and it was hard to tell exactly what was going on in his mind. He shifted his look from her and back. 'Saskia, that's a bit unfair, I didn't— ' His proposed denial irked her immensely; she wasn't going to allow any belying from him on this one, and showed it by upping her tone;

    'Awe, you know you did!  You ran from Blazes the second you clapped eyes on me, you couldn't handle it. I reminded you of those young girls you slept with. That's why you shot out of that place, you didn't want to take me on!'

 Neil stood briefly to remove his jacket, throwing it over the sofa behind him. 'I was three hours into finding out that I was a father. It threw me, okay?' His Scottish accent always thickened at times of stress. 
    'Yup, that was what I thought too, till I worked out the real reason tonight.'

    Neil put his elbows on his knees, and cupped his head in his hands. A pang of compassion for him fluttered through  her as he processed events; she could almost feel her words thrashing around in his

 His world had tilted on its axis; how in the hell would he able to level it again? What an end to the night. 

   'Trust that bad-mouthed bitch, I wish she had kept her trap shut!'

   'I don't.' she admitted. 'If nothing else, it's been said now. I'm just sorry I chose tonight to do it.'

From his hunched shoulders and worn-down expression, Saskia went over to him. As soon as her hand reached out for his face, barely brushing the skin, he rose with velocity and headed for the kitchenette - not sure if contact would be a comforting touch or an agonising weapon. Blood rushed to his head and heart; molecules criss-crossing over his solar pleaxis. With his back to her he gripped the edge of the sink for balance. Saskia forlornly followed him, deflated and hurt.

   'Oh, that's it... demand to be let in, make me spill my heart out, then shoot off and turn your back on me! Why bother coming in at all if you can't hack it, you knew full well what was coming!'

    'Please, Saskia... just let me get my head around this...'

    All he had heard still permeated through his mind, dissolving through his psyche. Never before had he faced such mental upheaval.

   Those unshed tears she'd been trying so hard to keep at bay started to spill. With his head still bowed above the mug-ridden basin, she was left feeling lost, emotionally battered and humiliated. Out of breath and energy, and with huge sobs, she backed up and slumped down the wooden balustrade to the floor.

Neil glanced over his shoulder at the pain-fueled sight and instantly felt bad. Seeing her crumpled there reminded him of the imbroglios his father beset on his mother time and time and again, picturing his begging mother in that same pathetic state; something he carried with him to this day. Going over to her 

he grasped her wrists, freeing her hands from her face, but she resisted as he pulled to make her stand. 

  'Up!' he demanded. 'Up... d'you hear me?' His hands still grasped firmly on her. 'Please, Saskia. C'mon... it's okay, it's okay.'

    'No, it's not. It'll never be okay again, you don't understand... I've got her at home to deal with and I've just sickened you to the core... how will it ever be okay?'

    With a rough yank to get her on her feet, he gave a huge pitying sigh and crushed her to him, his hand clasping her head against his chest, soothing her in a rocking motion. Coming out in whispers, she kept apologising for such disgusting ruminations.

  He pushed her by the shoulders at arms length and encouraged her to look at him. There was no lip gloss now, no blushed cheeks, just mascara shorelines from crying down her pale face, and he couldn't help but love it; she was still so beautifully wrapped in this dishevelled torment. 

    'Hey, hey... listen,' he said softly, pulling strands of hair free from wet patches on her nose and mouth, 'whatever you think of yourself or are struggling with right now, you don't disgust me.'

    'You're scaring me...' he interposed loudly, with a brief nervous grin, 'but you don't disgust me.' Then said in serious sotto voce, and to leave her in no doubt, 'You could never do that.'

    Looking up into his eyes, a shade confused, she asked, 'What? Even now?'

    'Even now.' he answered back, and felt an impulse to finger-straighten the tangles from the hair that he'd brushed so many times before.  

   He felt sober, lost. For her, for himself. It was awful seeing those sculpturesque-features etched with such hurt, so he laid a comforting kiss on her forehead then lifted her chin up to secure she looked at him, wholeheartedly saying, 'I mean that.'

   But sudden intuition - the thing she swore was in him somewhere - swept him from his quest to ease her turmoil, and forced his eyes to rest on her lips; pink padded and always soft to the touch. The thought of what they might feel like if they lingered seconds longer than the usual quick pecks they exchanged, took hold. The image in his head readily took over and picked on him, pressurised him, then paralysed him until his heart and hormones ambushed all reasoning; any fear was eaten up and morphed into a compelling force of needing to know.

 In one bold gesture of a slight lean forward, he made gentle contact with his daughter's lips, letting them remain on hers that bit longer.

  The motion caught her unawares, and she tenderly and slowly laid a palm on his chest. The corners of her mouth lifted up just a touch and upon tip toes she stretched up to kiss him back. He accepted. The feel, the taste, the knowing they shouldn't be there, all incitement never felt before. Nerve endings of his lips radiated to every last molecule in his body, stirring, inciting until Neil grasped her tighter to him with the intensity that she'd craved, and the reality that this was actually happening stirred her all the more, creating short, wanton groans; their very own precursor to immoral incongruity.

   As grinding lips deepened, Saskia raised a knee and slid it between his thighs, jerking them apart to rub hers with his. But in reaction to this he suddenly broke off the embrace - making her gasp - and he reached back to grip the edge of the worktop behind him. Fearing what his manoeuvre might mean, he closed his eyes for a few seconds then looked back at her intently, biting firmly on the inside skin of his bottom lip to, perhaps, palliate the nod he gave towards the bedroom door. 

  She smiled meekly in response as she raised her hand gently to his face, and with a fingertip rolled his lip free from its bite. In a segue, sang-froid manner she turned and walked from him, blithely taking on the invite that laws prohibit, and society repudiates; boundaries remitted.

       end of *** More  Than  Molecules***