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The funeral had ended just as the rain began to pick up. The crowd of black, slick umbrellas started to thin out, though she hung around, albeit, without an umbrella, because even though it was hanging on the hook by her door, she never thought to bring it out with her. Newlin had been the neighborhood’s father, sort of. His bar had been a place where all the lonely people could gather and be slightly less alone.
Her hair started to feel heavy. Her makeup was probably running, and her skin felt chilled, like marble. Her fingers were starting to numb too.
As long as she’d lived in London, she’d never seen his place close; the lights were always warm and welcoming, as was the man behind the bar, and the booze was always flowing. She almost exclusively sat at the bar, ignoring the tables sprinkled about and the booths against the wall.
Something dark loomed over her.
“You’ll catch your death if you stay out here.”
She turned and saw Arthur holding an umbrella over her. He clucked his tongue and gave her a disapproving once over. “You don’t even own an umbrella?”
“I do. I forgot it.”
“Hm.” He stood there for a few moments and said nothing. Meanwhile, she tried to stifle her shivering but was unsuccessful. “Do you have anywhere to be right now?”
“Not particularly.”
“Let’s go to mine then.”
“Arthur…” her voice felt heavy too like cold pond rocks were lodged in her throat. “I’m not really in the mood.”
He snorted, “Christ, you think that’s all I’m good for? I’m not just some bloody grab-ass you know. I just don’t think you should be alone right now.” He scowled, but she didn’t miss the way he grabbed her hand and towed her, making sure the umbrella was still hovering protectively over her.
She wondered if it really made a difference at this point.
“Either of us, really.”
That was a fair point. Arthur had known Newlin as she had; in fact, for a while, they would sit at the bar and glower at each other. He wasn’t all that likable sober either, but he was a terrible drunk, always getting into fights and bellyaching about something.
“Have you cried yet?”
“I don’t think so,”
He snorted, “Yeah, me neither. My therapist tells me that crying is healthy.”
She didn’t need him to tell her that she wasn’t well.
“So, what?” she asked when they got to his doorstep. She’d forgotten how close he lived to the graveyard. She wondered if that made it harder for him, but she didn’t think it was right to ask. “Are we just going to sit in the dark and cry then?”
He jimmied the key into the lock and held the door open for her to step in. She almost felt a little bad, she was already pretty sodden, and now she was dripping water into his foyer. His place was nice - he worked for the government or something like that. She didn’t have the details – they usually didn’t do a ton of talking.
Arthur flicked on the lights, and everything sprang into color and resolution.
“Well, we don’t have to sit in the dark,” he dangled his umbrella outside to shake it off and then stepped more fully inside. He shucked off his coat and umbrella into the foyer closet. “Go on and make yourself at home, love.”
She was uncomfortable about that. The wood floors in his house looked so nice and shiny, she’d hate to drip all over it.
“I don’t want to make a mess,”
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur called as he stepped into a side hallway. She heard the sound of a door opening and shutting. When he returned, he was holding a towel and set of clothes, he handed her the towel first.
“Here, you can dry off with this, and if you want, here’s a fresh set of dry clothes.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I probably shouldn’t stay too long anyway.”
“Nonsense, it’s fine. Plus, it’s supposed to storm until morning.”
As if on cue, lightning flashed, followed by the crash of thunder. She almost leaped out of her skin. Arthur folded the towel and clothes into her arms and ushered into the nearby bathroom.
Inside, she peeled off her black dress and hung it in the shower to avoid further drippage. She toweled off and changed into the clothes Arthur had given her, which was just a white buttondown shirt. This would’ve seemed more promiscuous if it wasn’t the attire she usually wore at his house after one of their meetings. Figures, too.
Girlfriends got t-shirts, repeating one-night-stands who were occasionally tolerated, got button-downs. She buttoned enough to cover the bare essentials and looked in the mirror.
Her hair was dripping onto the shirt, and spotting transparency at the garment. Her panties, were black lace, and barely visible. Oh well.
When she stepped out, Arthur was in the kitchen, pouring Champaign.
“Weird,” she remarked, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame.
He finished filling two flute-like glasses.
“Newlin gave this to me a few weeks ago, thought it might be nice if we toasted to him.”
Okay, so not that weird.
He offered her a glass, and she had to fold her sleeve up around her wrists before accepting it. He held his own glass up.
“To Newlin- the best of all of us.”
“To Newlin.”
She could feel him stealing a glimpse of her as she tipped her head back and brought the glass to her lips.
She took a few healthy swigs and some of it spilled onto the shirt. Shit.
“Ah, I’m sorry,” she hurriedly set the glass down and reached for a nearby rag.
“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur watched her hurry about the kitchen.
Her cheeks burned. He probably thought she was some dumb airhead now. She went to the sink and wetted the towel before blotting at the light-yellow stain. It was right above her right breast.
She could feel his eyes on her from behind.
“Now I’ll bet you’re ready to send me back out,” she teased, trying to undo the awkward silence she’d created.
His warm hands were suddenly smoothing around her waist.
“Not at all,” he murmured.
His lips were at her neck, not kissing, just…deliberating.
She knew she’d said she wasn’t in the mood, but his hot breath at her frosty skin sent arousal pooling between her thighs. She squeezed them together; she was only wearing her underwear. If she got too wet, it’d run down her thighs, and Arthur looked like he was up to no good, which meant that that point could come sooner than she anticipated.
She froze and could feel a hardness at her ass. One hand moved to sweep her wet hair away from her neck, but not before raising it to Arthur’s face. He took in a deep breath.
“Do I smell like wet dog?”
He laughed openly now, “No – just like rain. And you.”
“Oh.”
“It’s lovely.”
Her face warmed again. His lips went to her neck and now he did kiss her. She sighed contentedly and braced her arms against the counter.
One of his hands came to gently take the rag from her hands, and toss it onto the counter. He kissed delicately down the back of her neck.
His hand returned to her waist, and then along with the one that had never left, they inched upwards. His thumbs stroked ticklishly over her ribs and moved to cup her breasts through the shirt.
“Mm, no bra?”
She blushed even though it was silly – he’d seen her naked before.
“The dress didn’t need one.”
“That’s my new favorite dress then.”
Now it was her turn to laugh.
“Good to know.”
His palms pressed to the weightiness of her curves, bouncing her in his grip slightly. His lithe fingers pinched at her nipples, and combined with the drag of the fabric against them, she moaned. They were cold and hard, but he was rapidly starting to restore heat into her.
He turned her around in his arms, and she was pressed to his chest.
“I apologize for overstepping.”
He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“It wasn’t very gentleman-like of me,” he studied her face, looking to see if she’d give him the answer he wanted to hear.
A part of her didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but she was definitely in the mood now. And cold.
And she really didn’t want to be alone anyways. The thought of her dark, dingy apartment was depressing, and it wasn’t like she could go to Newlin’s. She felt a sting at the back of her throat that rippled up to prick at her eyes.
She cleared her throat, and raised a hand to rest at Arthur’s chest. She could feel his body heat through his white shirt.
“I’m in the mood for more of your brutishness.”
He grinned and kissed her.
They left the kitchen in a hurry, though she paused to grab their glasses of wine before she followed Arthur to his bedroom. No sooner had she gotten there and set the glasses down on the nightstand, he appeared again, seemingly out of nowhere. His hands were running over her, feeling her curves through the shirt. He spun her around and kissed her hard. Immediately he reached for the front of the shirt and tugged sharply.
The sound of buttons skittering to the hardwood floor melted in with the sound of rain tapping at the roof and windows.
“This is your shirt, you know,”
He kissed her hungrily like he was devouring her, his mouth moving to her jaw.
“I don’t care,” he pushed himself closer to her, and then she was falling onto the bed, with him on top. “The woman in the shirt is all I care about right now.”
She shoved away the hopeful little flutter that came at this and grabbed him back, matching the fever in his kisses with that of her own. He wrenched the fabric down her shoulders and moved down her body, kissing and stroking everywhere he could reach; her breasts, her belly, her hips and thighs.
Pleasure was pealing through her and settling between her legs.
Her underwear was as sodden as she was now. She took one of Arthur’s hands and guided it there. His fingers felt the silkiness of her panties, and the added slip her slick contributed. He groaned and shoved off so he could start stripping down. She watched him, sitting up and leaning against the pillows. She reached for the wine at the nightstand and took a long sip. He was wiry, almost lanky, but handsome all the same. Deceptively strong, and adept at putting her where he wanted her. Her sex ached at the thought of his hands on her again.
His eyes caught hers. His shirt was off with almost the same speed hers came off with; he was working at his belt and trousers now.
He eyed her and she paused mid-sip. She’d lain with him enough times to recognize when those green eyes were scheming.
“What?”
He reached forward to the bottom of her glass and tipped it so the wine sloshed out and spilled onto her torso. The bubbly liquid slipped down her and he was smiling when she glared at him.
“It’s going to dry sticky, asshole.”
“Oh, come on now love, I’ll clean you up.”
His trousers and briefs dropped to his ankles, his erection bobbed as he moved. He stepped out of his clothes and slunk up the length of her body. She set the wine down again, to avoid a repeat of what had just happened. When he got to her navel, where the wine was beginning to pool, he stuck his tongue out and gave an experimental lick.
He locked eyes with her, his tongue dipping into her belly button before continuing up and catching the wine.
“Mm, he remarked, pressing a kiss where he had just licked, “definitely one of the better wines I’ve had.”
She rolled her eyes and reached to card her hands gently through his hair. When his eyes found hers again, they were softer.
She watched him kiss her. She wasn’t sure if he was actually kissing her more softly, or if it was his eyes that made her relent to him more. She felt a bizarre little rush in her chest, and suddenly, despite the handsome man on top of her, she felt very lonesome. Maybe, it was because she knew she was just a fuck for him.
Maybe because when it was all over, she’d have to return to her apartment, alone, where her grief and reality would be waiting for her like neglected dogs.
Her throat tightened suddenly and the prickle came back.
She burst into tears.
What the fuck?
Arthur stared at her, flabbergasted, and eased himself off of her.
“Oh God damn it,” she managed as sobs wracked her body, shaking her form, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what –“ the need to breathe cut her off.
Arthur was already pulling on his underwear and picking up his shirt.
Ugh, gross, fuck, he probably thought she was crazy now. Some crazy, weird, unstable chick who cries during sex when a bartender dies, and now he’d send her home in the rain, and she’d have to do the last walk of shame she’d ever do from his home in this torrential fucking rain.
Disappointment panged inside her, barely perceptible from behind her grief.
Damn, and he was such a good lay too.
She reached a hand up to cover her face. This was too humiliating. She didn’t see Arthur approach her and so when she felt something at her shoulders, she jolted.
“Sshh,” he murmured. He draped his shirt around her shoulders, and she tugged it over her bare form to cover up.
New rule: she could be naked or crying – not both.
“I-I’m sorry,” she hiccupped, and the added layer of feeling pathetic brought in a new round of tears.
He left his arm around her even when she’d managed to cover up.
“It’s alright love, really. I get it.”
Wet, hot tears streaked down her face, which was probably all red and puffy. Between this and the rain, she probably looked dreadful.
“You must think I’m n-nuts,” she sniffled.
“Hey now,” he reached for her chin and gently tilted her face up so she was looking at him. “I don’t. I actually wish I was you right now.”
She snorted at this and gave a weak, watery half-laugh.
“You wish you were making an ass of yourself in front of –“
What was he to her? If someone had seen you naked, they probably were more intimate than an acquaintance.
Fuck buddy sounded so vulgar though.
“On the contrary,” he gave a small smile, “I’d love to be able to cry about…well, you know.” He cleared his throat and the pad of his thumb stroked over her cheek to wipe at her tears.
“Of course, being in the arms of some strapping, handsome gentleman sounds nice too.”
She laughed at this, though it sounded choked.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her to him. She let him, and when his other arm went around her, she nodded into his chest.
“So how about this – you stay here with me tonight.”
“I don’t think I’d be very good company.”
“That’s okay,” his hand stroked down her spine. His voice was more tender than she’d ever heard it before. “You just sit here, and I’ll hold you.”
“And tomorrow?”
He pressed a kiss to her ear.
“We’ll figure it out then.”
She couldn’t think of any reason why that shouldn’t work. She hesitated for a few moments. Then she tentatively wrapped her arms around him, and hugged him back.