There are certain things one grows used to, living in London.
The soot. The rain. The accents. The comments on your own accent, if you have one.
Then, there are the secret pleasures we find on our own. Things we grasp at greedily and hold in our clutches. Small comforts. For me, coffee was a small comfort. Early in the morning before I was expected at the office, I sat in a tiny and remarkably ancient café gazing down the street at the London Museum of Natural History. It was a cool morning. I sat. I drank. The sound of an espresso machine and the polite British early morning murmuring warmed me. Even the walk from Kensington to the Café had brought an exhilarated smile to my lips.
But despite the simple pleasures, the coffee, and the new friends I knew I was going to see at my work, I couldn't ignore the brush of a butterfly's wing beat low in my stomach. Because I was settled in now, slowly learning contentment, and I couldn't stop fucking thinking of Benjamin Reece.
What I had dubbed in my mind as 'The Masturbating Debacle' had been three weeks ago.
Almost a whole month since the owner of the house I was sitting for had seen me touch myself- over him.
Of course, he didn't know that it was over him. Probably.
The 'debacle' and the proposition afterwards should've made me furious. I was an intelligent woman, albeit a little naive. I was a feminist. I believed in equality... and privacy. But his confidence- arrogance, really- spoke to me in a disgustingly primal way. I wanted him to bend me over something and not stop fucking me until I begged for more. Mmmm.
Yes. Truthfully, his brazen proposition of spending the night together had been on my mind embarrassingly often. Sure, I had been propositioned by men before. I was an attractive woman in her mid-twenties, thank you very much. Still, my sexual history was meagre and still disappointing. My last boyfriend had called me frigid. Sometimes I wondered if he was right.
I didn't know, on that cool sunny morning with coffee on my lips and Benjamin Reece on my mind, how that ex-boyfriend was soon to be proven so very, very wrong.
*****
"Christ, it's actually warm out here."
"A scandal."
"A horror. Should we call the authorities? It's July, Scott."
"Yeah but it was such a long winter! I thought the warm was never going to come. We should go to the beach!"
"What, now?"
"No. Not now. We have much more pressing things to attend to."
"The pub is a pressing thing now, is it?"
"What? It's been a long day. It's Friday! I need a pint and a pretty girl to eye off."
I listened to the four of my co-workers- now formally friends- bicker with amusement, as I walked with them down a nondescript cobblestone lane. The sun was only just setting as we approached a pub close to the River Thames. We walked in, settling at a familiar booth.
"Right, I'm gonna grab that pint and the pretty girl," Scott- Junior Editor- said toothily "Anyone want?"
"Well I'd like a Guinness but you can leave the pretty girl today." Supplied Julie, our boss' secretary.
Scott cackled and pointed at me.
"You've already got one! All blonde hair and long legs, she is. You'd be greedy if you'd asked for another."
His northern English accent got more pronounced as he spoke faster. Julie hooked an arm around my shoulders and batted her eyes at Scott.
"Yes, she's all mine and you don't get to watch."
"Cheeky. I'll come, Scott. Want anything, Grace?" Leo asked me. He was gorgeous, a political writer. Dark skin, tall, muscles. A total sweetie and totally moonstruck over Julie.
"G and T, please. Are we ordering food? I wouldn't say no to a burger."
I glanced at Julie, who nodded with her arm still around me.
"Wouldn't mind some chips."
"Hot chips and a burger, got it."
We threw some money at the boys and watched them approach the bar- and two gorgeous girls. Scott instantly caught their attention, I laughed.
"Quick work."
"Yeah." Julie mumbled, her eyes on Leo. I followed her gaze and nudged her.
"Hey, why don't you just ask him for coffee?" I coaxed "You know he's mad about you."
"You keep saying that, I'm not sure I believe you yet. Look at him! He's so hot."
"So are you!"
"I'm not hot," she stopped my protests, pointed at me like Scott did "You? You're hot. Australian, perfect skin, blue eyes, amazing smile... you've got the works. I'm more Velma to your Daphne."
I laughed at the reference and shook my head.
"Ok, I always liked Velma much more than Daphne. Although props to Daphne for the purple. And in any case, you're gorgeous. You need more faith in yourself, Jules." I said sincerely.
It was true. Julie carried herself like a girl who was awkward throughout her schooling, but she was beautiful. Glossy brown hair cut sleekly to her shoulders, perfect pouty lips and a petite frame, Julie was basically my opposite.
I was built like a volleyball player- slim but toned, tall. I loved to work out- endorphin junkie I suppose.
Julie sighed.
"I'll work on that."
"Do."
I changed the subject, noting Julie's glum face, to the topic of her potential promotion. She was younger than us, at twenty-three. Just out of school with a masters in journalism, like me. She perked up at the conversation and the boys came back with our drinks.
It was a fun night. We ate, laughed, drank, Scott flirted with me and I even flirted back. I didn't realize how late it was and that I was a little bit tipsy until Julie pounced on my arm, gave a little gasp.
"Look at that guy. God, he is the definition of hot, steamy sex."
I giggled at her enamored expression and the immediate protests of the boys.
"Hey, hey whoa! We're right here! And here I thought I was the definition of hot, steamy sex." Scott mock-pouted.
"No you're more like the definition of 'all talk'" snickered Leo.
The bickering continued and I laughed, but stopped when I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Slowly, I turned to look at the guy that Julie had been talking about.