Ah, I thought I was going to keep my promise and post this yesterday, but it’s just gone past midnight.

I don’t feel that’s entirely my fault: I was called into work unexpectedly and have only just, fighting through post-work, food and shower drowsiness found the time to make the final edits of this story, which I fear might not actually stand up to any hyperbolic statements I may or may not have made about it (I’m really too tired to remember what I said about it, if anything). Regardless, it is a good story, possibly a great one, and I think there’s a fair bit going on in it, which I hope will come across in subsequent re-readings of the story, if not the first time through.

So, yes, I am proud to have this as my one hundredth post, and I hope you all enjoy it,

Henry.

The New House

“Hey,” said Kate, “hey, stranger.”

She grabbed Jay’s arm, brought him to a stop in the cloying heat of an August Saturday as he picked his way through the crowd. People continued to push past, making little, if any, concession.

“Hey,” he said, looking at her, surprised.

“You nearly walked right past me,” she said.

Large sunglasses obscured her eyes, and she had cut her hair into a neat bob since the last time he had seen her, a few weeks ago, just after the start of the summer holidays.

“I didn’t know you were back yet,” he said.

“The weather wasn’t great, so we came back a few days early.”

“Didn’t you enjoy it much then?”

“It was okay, but we just ended up going in the arcades and stuff every day. It was too rainy and miserable to go on the beach.”

She pulled off her sunglasses, revealing blue eyes. Jay grimaced sympathetically.

“It rained here last week too,” he said.

He paused awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, which was slick with sweat.

“Hot today though,” he continued, “stuffy.”

“Yeah, it is kinda. Anyway, how are you?”

She reached up to rub the side of his arm.

“I’m okay. Sick of town; too many people and I couldn’t find -”

A man bumped into him and carried on walking, but did not say anything. Jay watched the man disappear back into the crowd, shook his head.

“We should probably get out the way,” Kate said.

The two moved aside, against the white stone wall of a bank.

“What were you looking for?” Kate asked.

“A desk,” said Jay, “for my new room.

“Doesn’t it come with one? I thought student rooms always came with desks.”

“Yeah, well it does, but it’s not a nice one. I don’t like it.”

Kate nodded, then squinted as a momentary break in the clouds illuminated the wall behind Jay.

“Have you moved in yet?” she asked, shading her eyes with her hand.

“No, not yet, I picked the keys up yesterday, but I’m just moving my stuff across bit by bit at the moment.”

He reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead.

“So what you up to now?” Kate asked.

Jay shrugged.

“Nothing really, I was just going home.”

“Shall we go get a cup of tea somewhere?”

Jay looked around, felt sweat in the lines of his palms. He liked Kate’s eyes.

“Okay,” he said.

In the café, cold drinks stood in neat lines on the shelves of a glass and metal cooler, condensation clinging to their slender-necked bodies. Jay grabbed a bottle of sparkling pear juice. Kate ordered a latte. All the outside tables were taken, so they sat opposite each other at a small round table by the window, and their knees brushed against each other as Kate told Jay about her family holiday in Cornwall. When she had finished they both took a sip of their drinks and there was silence between them. Jay looked around, thinking of something to say. He could feel his t-shirt sticking to his back with every movement he made.

“It really is hot today,” he said.

“Yeah,” Kate said.

Jay scratched at a scab on his elbow, his fingers curled into claws.

“How’d you do that?” Kate asked.

“Basketball,” said Jay, “I tripped.”

Kate leaned in close to examine the wound. It was only small, but stood out vividly against his pale skin, accentuated by a salmon-pink halo. Jay watched her, felt too hot. Once outside, he pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels. Kate looked at him.

“Wanna see my new house?” he said, finally.

“Sure,” Kate said.

The cloud-bank shifted uneasily in the sky and let out a few drops of rain. Jay felt their coolness on his skin and smiled. Kate was looking at him, smiled.

“I hope it rains,” Jay said.

Kate frowned.

“I’m sick of rain after last week.”

“I love summer rain,” Jay continued, “it’s so refreshing.”

“I like summer to be hot and sunny,” Kate said.

Jay looked at her. He still felt sticky with sweat. He wondered if she had noticed.

“Here it is.”

They stood outside a terraced house with a blue front door and a gated alleyway leading up the side. Dirt clung to the walls, clumped together in irregular veins on the white-painted walls. At the back there was a concrete yard, divided by four timber steps halfway along its length, which ran up to a gravelled rectangle with regularly placed slabs like uniform islands in a gravel-sea. A couple of small trees with sharp yellowish leaves brought colour to the yard.

“Nice garden,” Kate said.

Jay was flicking through the unfamiliar keys to find the one for the back door. He raised a gold-coloured key and tried it in the lock, but it did not fit. The keys jangled. He tried another and the door came open. They stepped into a small kitchen which had black and red tiles across the floor and faux-marble worktops. He was not used to the smell of the place, did not yet identify the smell of dust on the static air with home. He felt like an intruder, a stranger.

Next to the kitchen was the bathroom.

“I need to go wash my face,” Jay said.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and took his t-shirt off. In the mirror he saw himself, skinny, nervous. He had always thought Kate beautiful. The water ran off his face, dripped into the basin. The sky looked washed-out through the frosted glass. Jay wondered if it would rain more as he reached for a towel, dabbed at his face and under his arms. He put his t-shirt back on. It smelled of sweat.

He opened the bathroom door. Kate had walked through to the living room.

“Have your house-mates moved in yet?” she asked.

“No, Andy’s home this weekend and Neil’s working so they’re moving in on Monday, and Tom’s gone home for a few weeks, so I’m not sure when he’s moving in.”

Kate nodded.

“You going to give me the tour then?” she asked.

Jay showed her round all the rooms, mentioning who would be taking each one, finally ending with his own, which was furthest along the corridor at the top of the stairs. The room was smaller than the rest, though not by much. Against one wall stood a small computer desk with a silver-grey plastic covering. In a corner was a chest of drawers, opposite which was a wardrobe. On the same wall as the wardrobe were some shelves, which had a few books and DVDs piled haphazardly across them. The bed stood by the wall with the window in it. Kate went over to this first, and knelt on the bed so she could see through the glass.

“It’s a good view,” she said, pulling off her shoes so she wouldn’t get them on the bare mattress.

She turned back round to see Jay at the wardrobe changing into a clean t-shirt. Jay was conscious of her watching him.

“It’s so quiet here,” she said.

Jay turned round.

“Yeah,” he said.

They looked at each other across the room.

“Come here,” said Kate.

Jay sat down on the bed next to her and she kissed him on the mouth. She drew back, smiled, and kissed him again. Their tongues met and moved against each other. She put her arms around him and held him close, then their lips parted and she pressed her cheek against his neck. She began to kiss his neck, but felt his shoulders tense beneath her palms. She pulled back and looked at him.

“I must stink of sweat,” he said.

“No, you’re fine,” she said, moving close to him again, kissing his neck, his cheek, his lips.

She swung her legs up over his knees so she could move closer to him and continued to kiss him passionately, almost desperately. Instinctively Jay’s hand moved to her waist and then up her back as they kissed, then it began to move around the front, pushing her away almost, even as he pulled her closer. Her lips smiled against his, and so he continued, rubbing gently at first, then grasping her breast more firmly, with the same awkward desperation of their kissing. Apart from her bra, he could feel nothing through her t-shirt, so he pushed his hand up under the cloth and pulled down the cup. He reached back up and felt beneath his open palm her nipple, hard and round and firm as a blackcurrant. He continued to massage the warm flesh.

In response she moved her hand down from his waist to his crotch, where the head of his penis strained against the thick denim. As with her breast through the t-shirt, the sensation was muted. Still, Jay felt a twinge of raw physical pleasure with every movement she made, but he did not smile: his expression remained serious, almost pained with concentration. Kate did not notice; her eyes closed as her lips moved between his neck, his cheeks and his mouth, her fingers dancing towards the zipper on his jeans.

“Wait,” he said, pulling his hand out from her top.

“What?”

Their eyes locked, stayed locked as a second passed.

“The bed’s not made… it doesn’t feel right.”

Kate looked down at the bare mattress.

“Really?” she asked, adjusting her bra.

Jay shrugged and stood. There was still a ridge in his jeans and his heart pounded as he moved towards the chest of drawers to pull out some sheets. Kate got off the bed too and watched Jay spread a bottom-sheet over the mattress. He took a long time smoothing the sheet out, so she began to stuff the duvet into its cover. He helped her, and their hands brushed against each other, then she pulled him close, wrapped him up in the duvet and pushed him back onto the bed.

“Happy now?” she asked.

Jay shrugged. She lay down on top of him and kissed him again, then rolled under the duvet herself and pulled off his shirt. She kissed his stomach and Jay felt again, inevitably, the tightness in his jeans. Kate felt it too and, covered by the duvet, pulled off her own top. She lay back on top of him again. Jay felt her breasts against his chest and her crotch against his. The heat of her body was irresistible. He pushed her onto her side, unhooked her bra and kissed her breasts as his hand slid into her pants. His fingertips came against the short-trimmed pubic hair, at once familiar and alien, and then pushed further down, following the curve, closing around a warmth that was delicate and internal, distinct in the dirty, muggy heat of the air.

Meanwhile, Kate was already fiddling with his belt, pulling his waist-band apart so she could reach inside. He felt her fingers close around the shaft and pull once towards her, as if trying to take it for herself, and then push down, pulling the skin back. He bit his lip, felt his heart race, felt sick with excitement. There was a pause, a momentary lull balanced on a knife-edge, as they both looked into each other’s eyes and lay perfectly still, her hand closed tightly around his penis, his fingers inside her pants cupping the soft flesh of her labia, before he suddenly pulled his hand away and yanked her jeans and her pants down to her ankles in one feverish movement. She kicked them the rest of the way off and sat up to pull down his jeans and boxer shorts.

Then he was on top of her, kissing her all over, pressing against her even as she pulled him close and dug her fingers into his back. She had to fight against herself to push him away even for one moment, just to ask in a rapid whisper,

“Do you have any condoms?”

Concern clouded Jay’s face, made him pause.

“No,” he said, “they’re back at the old house.”

The passion in his body, the erection of his penis, began to ebb. He felt oppressed by the stark walls, by the haphazard books on the shelves and a crumpled plastic bag on the floor. The silence of the small room, like the heat of the day, was all around, inescapable, smothering. Jay pushed himself up on his hands and Kate leaned up to kiss him once on the chest, before falling back to the pillow and staring at his troubled face.

“I don’t care,” she said, “I can’t wait, I’ll get a pill later, I want you.”

She tried to pull him back down, but he resisted, as if teasing her. He had suddenly become again concious of the ugly computer desk that loomed by the bedside on its skeletal silver legs. Kate mirrored his concern in her own features and shifted her feet against his under the duvet. A question trembled at her lips, but was held back by a shapeless fear. She squeezed his arms and he looked down at her, at her eyes, at her nipples, offset by the weight of her breasts like two cherries on swirls of melting cream. Whatever the internal conflict that had raged inside his brain during those seconds of hesitation, lust had emerged dominant, and now gorged itself on the sensation of her breath on his cheek, of her thigh against his penis, of the sapphire shine in her eyes.

When Jay pushed inside her, Kate gasped and pulled him closer and further up as if she wanted the entry to go on forever. It could not and so, reaching the apex of his thrust, he stopped and pulled back slowly, savouring each second, each minute tingle of sensation. The fear that had been embodied a moment before in the ugliness of the computer desk now hovered ghost-like beyond the moment of ejaculation, obscured by distance but drawing ever closer as Jay pulled down, down, almost until he came free, and then again up inside of her. Kate gasped, kissed him, rubbed her breasts, jerked her hips, and he gradually went faster and faster, until his loins burned with the strain of holding back the release. In a final attempt to avert the cataclysm of his climax, to outwit the nameless dark spectre, Jay pulled out and his semen sprayed over the bed-sheet and the inside of Kate’s thigh.

For several seconds, Kate was oblivious to the warm liquid running down her leg, and continued to crush Jay against her, aching to have him back inside her, demanding that it would not end like this, so soon, that she would not be denied the final wrenches of pleasure when she was so close to orgasm. But he was spent, hollowed out, and, as the waves of ecstasy rippled away into nothing, she became aware of the semen cooling on her skin. It did not disgust her, as she lay beneath Jay’s hot body, but he felt sticky and wanted to shower. Both of them were panting, and could feel the other’s hot breath, but they did not kiss. Jay’s fingers clenched the loose cover on the pillow. He wondered how many people had had sex on this bed before, wondered if it mattered. Slowly he allowed his muscles to relax and slid down by her side.

“I hope nobody saw us,” Kate said, remembering the window.

“Mm,” said Jay.

He realised that his elbow was raw, so he propped himself up to inspect it. At some point in the throes of passion, Kate had caught the scab, and now an edge of it had been separated from the skin beneath. He picked at it gingerly.

“Did I do that?” Kate asked, “sorry.”

Jay nodded absently and continued to pick.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Kate said, “it doesn’t look ready to come off.”

She put a hand up to his, but too late: Jay yanked off the crystalline skin with a grimace. A crescent sliver of blood shot to the surface, but did not pool up enough to run down. They both looked at the irregular circle of taut pink skin that had been revealed, then Kate lay back down to look out the window at the first heavy drops of rain which had begun to fall. Jay lay down behind her and wrapped his arm across her chest, so that his hand rested across her collar-bone. Past the side of her head he could see the indifferent backs of the houses opposite, which rose high above his bedroom window and stretched up towards the low grey sky. He wondered who his neighbours were and felt the wet patch on the sheet against his leg, the curve of her buttocks against his hip, the weight of her breast across his arm.

“I love you,” she said suddenly, after several minutes of silence.

She took his hand and kissed it and waited for a reply. Jay said nothing, but stopped thinking about the neighbours.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, twisting round to look at him.

Jay shrugged and did not look at her eyes for a long time. Eventually he did look, and she was still watching him, so he said,

“I was wondering if we should break up.”

Kate’s face went pale and she looked away.

“Why? Because I…?” she paused, “that was months ago.”

Jay moved so he was not lying on the semen patch any more.

“I told you about it straight away, said I was sorry.”

Kate waited for him to respond, but Jay continued to stare at the backs of the motionless houses opposite.

“It was one time. We were both drunk,” she pleaded, wide-eyed, “you said you forgave me.”

Jay looked at her, felt a pang of guilt, thought he was stupid, knew he had gone too far, shrugged. He had never asked her about her past lovers, and she had not told him.

“You never did, did you?”

When he did not answer, she hit his shoulder with her palm and drew the duvet tight around herself, then she started to cry, silently, and rubbed her leg. Jay watched her. She had taken most of the duvet and he began to feel cold and disgusted.

“So what was this?” Kate demanded, semen cold and sticky against her fingers, “one last fuck before you dumped me?”

“I don’t know,” Jay said, “I didn’t expect to see you today, I thought you were still in Cornwall.”

“Maybe if you texted me once in a while you’d have known. I missed you, you know, even though… I felt guilty about our fight, but it was your fault, you started it. You. Oh, just fuck you. Give me my clothes.”

Sheepishly Jay gathered up her bra and t-shirt, and then dragged up the crumpled pair of jeans with her pants still inside them from the bottom of the bed where she had kicked them off. They both got dressed, lying sideways under the same duvet, in silence, then Kate crawled awkwardly past Jay, who drew in his legs to let her pass. She stood.

“Why didn’t you just say you couldn’t forgive me, instead of pretending everything was fine and never talking to me about it?”

“I didn’t want to keep making you feel guilty since there was nothing you could do about it.”

“Yeah, well I did feel guilty about it, for ages, but I thought we were getting over it. I thought I’d go away and come back and everything would be like it was before, better even, we’d be stronger for it.”

Jay shrugged apologetically.

“Fine,” Kate said, “I’m going. I hope you’re happy here.”

She opened the door.

“I’m sorry,” Jay said before she walked through, “I couldn’t help it.”

Kate turned round and looked at him hard for several seconds, still sat on his bed. She could still feel the warm wetness inside her and the way it made the cotton of her pants sticky and tingling when she moved. She shook her head.

“You weren’t even drunk.”

She turned away and Jay watched her leave, heard her close the back door, which was below his window. He rubbed his elbow. For a while afterwards he lay there, looking at the rain, and at his new room. It was bare, almost stark, and very silent. Jay breathed in. The air was fresh and cool from the rain. He closed his eyes and saw the room with a new desk, with his books and films all neatly on the shelves, with posters on the wall. This room belonged to him now. It was his room. He stood up and stretched out, then went downstairs to shower. He could have been anyone.

Tags: apathy, boy meets girl, disinterest, Fiction, hundreth post, metaphor, new house, nipples as fruits similes?, original fiction, Raymond Carver, Relationships, sex

This entry was posted on Monday, August 31st, 2009 at 12:12 am and is filed under Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.