‘Voilà.  The famous chip butty.’

‘That’s it?’

She pushes a plate towards him.  ‘Taste it.’

He eyes it without desire.

‘Go on.  I tasted caviar for you.’

‘That’s true.’  He takes a tiny bite and begins to chew cautiously.

‘No, no, that’s not how you eat it.  You have to attack it.  Like this.’ She opens her mouth and takes a huge bite.  He follows suit.  It is strange watching him eat with such abandon.

‘Well?’ she demands.

‘Not bad actually.  Kind of satisfying.’

‘This is what a lot of kids on the estate live on most of the time.’

‘Did you?’

‘No, my mother never had a drinking or a drug problem so she didn’t have to dip into our food money to finance her habit.’

‘Did you have a happy childhood?’

‘Yeah, I guess so.  Until my mother got sick I was very happy.’

‘How come you never had a boyfriend?’

She wipes her lips with a paper napkin, swallows, and grins.  ‘All the boys were scared of Jack.  And after my mother got sick and my father left any thoughts of boys were gone.’

‘Who’s Jack?’

‘He’s the closest thing I have to a brother.’

‘Why were they scared of him?’

‘Because Jack is not only big and strong, he is also utterly fearless.  When we were growing up there was nobody he was scared of.  Everybody knew Jack had taken me under his wing.  And nobody wanted to mess with him.  Once Billie, Leticia, Jack and me went to a club, and a guy there wanted to dance with me.  He wouldn’t take no for an answer so Jack said, “You heard her.  Now scram.”  Of course, he didn’t take that too good so he waited with his mates for us outside the club.’

Lana stops to pop a fat chip into her mouth.  ‘And surrounded us.  One of them had a knife.  I was so frightened.  I remember Jack looked at me and said, “Shhh… you know I got ya,” and then he smiled.  That Jack smile.  And I knew it would be all right.  I walked out of the circle and they closed in on him.  I can still see them now.  Tattoos, broken teeth, rings where there should be none.  But what shocked me was Jack.  He was like a stranger.  I couldn’t recognize him.

‘All those years I thought I knew him, warm and friendly, an unshakeable rock, and suddenly I see this fiend turning on himself, snarling, “Come on then. Who’s first?”  They advanced in a group.  He kicked the one with the knife in the throat and another he punched in the nose, bled like crazy.  Then he felled another two guys, I don’t know how, it happened so fast, and then it was over.  The last coward ran away.  It was like watching a movie.  And you know what the first thing he said to me was?  “Are you all right?”

‘Unusual guy,’ Blake says.  ‘Did you never want to go out with him?’

‘No, he is my brother.  My safe harbor.  I’d do anything for him, though.’

He nods.  There is no expression in his face.  ‘How long has your mother been ill?’ he asks, and takes another bite of his sandwich.

‘Just before I turned fifteen.  And that was also when my dad left.  I was so scared she was going to die.  If not for Jack, I don’t know how things would have turned out.  He came around every day and did what my father should have done.’

‘And you’ve never seen your dad since he left?’

Lana shakes her head.

‘Did you not want to?’

‘No.  I heard he married again and had more kids, but he really doesn’t interest me anymore.  He ran out on us.  He thought my mother would die and he would be saddled with me.’

‘Hmmm… You’ve never had an orgasm until you met me, have you?’

Lana is certain her face must be bright red.  ‘Was it that obvious?’

‘A bit.  You never had a boyfriend but you must have masturbated while growing up.’

‘You don’t know what my life was like.  For most of my life I’ve been terrified of losing my mother.  Whenever she was ill, I slept with her.  And when she was not—which was not often, and I returned to my own bed I could never do anything—my mother is such a light sleeper she will wake up if a pin drops.’

Blake takes his last bite and pushes away from the stool.  ‘Got some work to do.  Can you amuse yourself for a bit and meet me in an hour’s time in the bedroom?’

‘OK.’

In the bedroom she reaches for his trousers.  She wants to give him pleasure the way he taught her.

‘Easy, tiger,’ he says and spreading her legs, he latches onto her clit covered in its sweet juices and begins to gently suck it.  The sensation is indescribable—delicate ribbons of pleasure rise from his mouth and enter her being.  She trembles against his mouth.  She forgets to think, she becomes an extension of her sex, her core. He is teaching her sex, what it can be.  Her nails become claws that dig into his shoulders.  Her mouth opens and her muscles begin to contract with anticipation of the explosion that is coming.

But when he judges the train wreck is almost upon her he deliberately slows his movement, brings her back down only to begin again on that velvet-soft swollen flesh.  His eyes monitor her reaction.  Again and again until she is holding his head in her hands and begging him to let her climax.

‘I can’t take it anymore,’ she pleads.

And this time he relents.  He lets her come.  It shocks her by its intensity.  She screams his name, but strangely, he refuses take his mouth away from the painfully sensitive blood-engorged sex.  She tries to wriggle away but his grip is steel.  Then, suddenly she is no longer pushing his head away and begging him to stop, but pulling him back in; the waves of ecstasy are coming back.  And again.  Three times in total she jerks, shakes, trembles and soars before she falls from her great height.  Her hands flop to her sides, spent.

She feels him take his watching eyes away from her and lay his cheek for a moment on her stomach and listen to her ragged breathing.

Then he bounds up, full of coiled energy and picking her up lays her on the pillow.  She is so spent she looks at him with hazy, passion-filled eyes.  She wants to tell him that she has never experienced such a thing before.  She wants to tell him how beautiful and awesome it has been, how complete he has made her feel; perhaps she might even have blurted out that she is in love with him and has been for some time now.

There is no one but him for her—she would take the bad, the good, even the indifferent—but he places a silencing finger on her lips.  He does not want words from her.  He wants only claim of her body and only when he wants it.  All he was doing was defining her as his.  As her eyes flutter shut she hears him step out of his trousers and feels the mattress give under his knee.

‘Ah,’ she says.

Twenty two

It is late, nearly twelve, when Blake slots his key in the door and enters the apartment.  The sliding doors to the balcony are open.  A gentle breeze lifts the curtain.  He sees her asleep on the sofa and feels a frisson of some strange emotion.  He stands over her and watches her.  In the soft light, the pattern on the lavender wallpaper looks like thorn vines that the prince has to hack through and she is the princess from Sleeping Beauty.  He can still remember reading it for his sister.  So many times.  Her favorite.  He hated it.  Corny nonsense.  He sits next to her and her sleeping body tilts twenty degrees towards him.  He runs a finger along her cheek.  She opens her eyes.

‘You smell of whiskey.  Where have you been?’

He chuckles.  ‘Doing my rounds.’

She puts a hand to his cheek.  It is cold. She puts her hand on his chest.  Through the shirt material, her fingertips register the beat of his strong heart.

‘You reminded me of Sleeping Beauty.’

‘That must make you Prince Charming then.’

A look of sadness crosses his face.  His hand gently traces the line of her cheek.  ‘Don’t deceive yourself, Lana.  Our liaison can only ever be temporary.  I am spoken for.’