This is a romantic thriller with various characters and lots of twists and turns. The two main people, Chris and Laura are starting to get to know each other.
As usual in my stories there are lots of people that touch and swirl around the lives of the central characters, and nothing, as in life runs smoothly.
Please read and enjoy.
*
Chris stretched his long body in the bed, turning his head to his right he watched as Tricia slept next to him in the gloom of the early morning hours.
He felt a prick of remorse, which was stupid. He didn't even know the girl from the bus stop, but he still felt as if he was being unfaithful to her. Tricia had been passionately exciting last night, adventurous and eager, but she wasn't her, the one he wanted, and even though his body had responded to the woman in his arms, his mind kept wishing it was that other person.
Wishing it had been her light brown hair that had swirled over his body as she kissed and licked him, and not the thick auburn hair that fell around Tricia's heart shaped face as it had swept over his body last night.
Carefully slipping out of the bed, he bent down to retrieve his jeans and slipped them on, just as the girl in the bed opened her eyes, and then leaning up on one elbow said in a sleep rough voice "Running out on me?"
He leaned across the bed, kissing her softly on her mouth and in a deep whisper "No sweetheart, I have to get to work."
"What! This early? Must only be four in the morning"
"I need to get back to my place and pick up my tools before going in. I'll give you a ring, what's your number?"
As he pulled the white tee shirt over his head, she wrote it down on a piece of paper from the drawer next to her bed, handed it to him, and he tucked it into the pocket of his jeans. With a smile she said "Super heroes are definitely getting sexier every day, and next time bring your Lycra suit."
"You betcha." And leaning over the bed again he kissed her mouth, an open mouthed kiss that seemed to promise more to come in the future.
Climbing off the bed he bent down, grabbed his boots and jacket and quietly left the bedroom, walking down the hallway to the front door of the small flat he let himself out into the crisp night air. Sitting on the step he pulled on his socks and boots, and sat there for a few minutes breathing in deeply with his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed down, his eyes closed. "Shit," he thought to himself, "I really have it bad, I'm leaving a nice warm bed and warmer body, just so I can be on time to meet a bus and see her." and he shook his head in self mocking despair.
Walking across town to his own place, he told himself he would do it this morning, he would stop her, start a conversation, ask her name, ask her out, ask her if she was OK, ask her anything. Maybe she wouldn't slap him for being so forward. Maybe she wouldn't run away from him and down the road to the house that she went into each morning. Maybe she would smile at him and tell him she felt for him the way he felt for her. And maybe pigs can fly!
Who was he kidding, in the past couple of months she hadn't even noticed him, hadn't once smiled up into his eyes. Just got off the bus, and calmly walked past him, as he stood there dumbstruck and transfixed. Except yesterday when she bumped into him, and he had felt her fragility, and the bolt of electricity that ran through him as he touched her, steadying her from falling over.
Letting himself into his apartment across the road from the bus stop and the house that she disappeared into each morning, he walked into the bathroom. Turning on the shower and peeling out of his clothes, he stepped into the hot water, looking up as it rained down on his face. Soaping his body, the water dripped down through the rough hair on his well developed chest and flat abdomen, down through the curly black hair in his groin, down the long strong thighs and calves, and down past the wide feet planted slightly apart washing away the soap and the musky smell of last night's sex.
*
She had lain curled up and scared all night next to her husband in the big bed, scared that he would hurt her again, her body sore and stiff from tension, her head aching from lack of sleep. But he had slept, gently snoring as if nothing had happened, and the woman next to him was of no consequence. She arose earlier than normal, and slipped out of the bedroom to get ready, then going downstairs she cleaned up the kitchen and prepared the breakfast he liked, orange juice, cereal and set the coffee percolator on.
The noise upstairs told her he was up, and standing at the sink, her back to the door she tried to act as calmly as possible as he came into the kitchen. She felt his arms wrap around her middle and braced herself for another onslaught but instead she felt his head bend down and his mouth nuzzle her neck.
"Morning my love," he whispered in her ear and pulling her back so her body was tight against his he breathed into her ear "make yourself pretty tonight and I'll take you out for a meal and drinks." And stepping back he gently patted her bottom and sat down at the kitchen table to eat the food and drink laid out.
Laura glanced round at her husband, unsure and confused. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, one moment almost like the man she had fallen in love with, the next a violent and abusive control freak. She never seemed to know which version of the man she was dealing with.
Robert sat happily at the table; he had her where he wanted her, unbalanced and unsure. He knew she had no confidence in herself, he had known that from the moment he met her, and she was so easy to manipulate, so eager to please him and do what he wanted. He looked up at her standing there, a small frown across her forehead, her eyes reflecting her confusion. Her eyes always revealed her emotions to him, whether it was love, anger, happiness or fear.
And he loved to watch her eyes reflecting the fear she felt, it made him feel powerful. Powerful and in control.
And control was everything to Robert.
*
Chris sat on the wall by the bus stop, blue eyes fixed on the road to his right, waiting for a sight of the bus. He didn't notice the interested looks from the two girls standing at the stop, or the slight drizzle starting to dampen his unruly black hair. She hadn't been on the last bus, and his stomach had tightened with a fear that she may not be on the next one either. What if she didn't come ever again? He didn't know where she lived, what her name was, who she visited every day.
A panic came over him as he sat there waiting, a panic that he might never see her again.
He looked around, up the road at the house she disappeared into each day. Maybe he should knock on the door of the house and introduce himself. Find out as much as he could about her. Satisfy the craving in his soul for some form of contact, of just a small connection to the woman of his dreams. He turned his head back to see a bus in the distance, and his heartbeat quickened. The bus slowly came nearer, stopping and starting in the heavy morning traffic, and the people at the stop started to jostle ready to get their place in the queue. Chris just sat quietly, eyes focused on the large vehicle moving its sluggish way towards him.
Eventually it arrived and stopped, doors opened, and holding his breath he watched as first a mother with a child buggy struggled to get off, and then two schoolboys, trying to push past the struggling mother. Where was she? His heart pounded in his chest, his eyes staring unblinking at the empty entrance to the bus.
And then she was there, silky brown hair framing her small oval face, her sweet almond eyes looking down at the pavement as she stepped down. Chris arose and stood watching, no thought of getting on the bus, he just stood there drinking in the gentle beauty of the woman that owned his heart.
He watched as she walked slowly and stiffly past him, her body language shouting out tension and something else he could not recognise. Without realising it his feet started to move and follow her the fifty yards down the road until she got to the garden gate of the house, never taking his eyes from her slim back in the short beige jacket she wore.
As she entered the house with her key, Chris stood at the garden gate, rooted to the spot, unsure what to do next. The bus had swallowed up the people in the queue and was moving off, into the traffic, taking the passengers to their daily lives as the tall man stood still and transfixed staring at the wooden front door. The barrier between him and his love.
Did she live here? He didn't think so, as he never saw her the rest of the week except to arrive in the mornings. Who was she visiting each day? Her family, friends, who?
He took a deep breath and slowly opened the gate, stepped through and walked down the short path to the front door. Standing there, his hand raised to knock, a hundred opening lines rushed through his brain. Taking a deep swallow he knocked and stood heart pounding, palms sweating, waiting and listening for movement the other side of the door.
Laura heard the knock as she stood carefully taking off her jacket from her aching body, and turning round to open the door thought to herself that the nurse was early this morning.
It wasn't the nurse, but a very tall man that stood there, nearly a whole foot taller than she was. His ice blue eyes gazed down into hers, a straight nose led down to a slightly smiling mouth that was surrounded by dark black stubble. The man's intense stare slightly startled her, and then he seemed to pull himself together and clearing his throat said in a deep quiet voice "Hi, I live over the road" and he half turned pointing to a house further down the road on the opposite side of the street. "I couldn't help notice that the garden needs some clearing and work done, and I'm a handyman by trade and was wondering if you would like some help tidying it up?"
Laura looked past the large man at the overgrown front garden, the weeds taking over the once immaculate flower beds and through the cracks in the paving, old rubbish littering and an overgrown hedge.
"Please wait here whilst I ask Mrs J" she smiled up at him, the now dark bruise on her cheek more visible to Chris, and his body stiffened with anger at the man that would do this to this slight women. Any man that raised his hands to a woman was a coward and a bully in Chris's eyes, and that it should be this woman on the receiving end brought out the protective side of his nature to the full.
He heard a muffled conversation and then she reappeared, "Mrs Jackson says for you to come in." and she stepped back gesturing for him to come through.
