Kissing Games

Kissing Games

Katie held the phone tight against her ear. The ringing stopped, a moments pause as the connection was made, then his voice.
“Hello?”
There were so many things that she wanted to say to him but the words wouldn’t come.
“Hello? Is that you? What do you want, you stupid bitch?” His voice filled her head, then the line went dead.

She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes and rested her head back against the headrest. The moment of contact was enough.

Suddenly there was hammering on the window, the door was torn open. Hands reached for her and she was hauled from the car and thrown to the pavement. On her knees before him she looked up into his beautiful face. He dragged her to her feet and pushed her hard back against the car. His hands gripped her arms; his eyes blazed; his body so close. The words of fury poured over her.

Her heart was banging in her chest, her skin burned from his touch.

Then he was striding away. She turned to watch and noticed how the wind caught his shirt.
She had received so much more than she could have hoped for.

*******

Katie pirouetted in front of the mirror. It was a long time since she had felt this happy. He had touched her! Not the loving caresses she dreamt of, but the pressure of his hands was still fresh in her mind. Surely he must see that they were perfect for each other. Suddenly the feelings she had for him overwhelmed her, and tears of longing and frustration sprang into her eyes. She wanted him so desperately. Soon he would know how much.

But her bath was waiting. She slowly began to undress, imagining his hands, mirroring her own, as she loosened and dropped each garment to the floor. She ran her hands over her body, the half light, from the lamp, cast shadows on her exposed skin. The pattern of his fingers was imprinted onto the pale flesh of her arms. She gently touched the marks then moved on, to linger, for a moment, on the wound on her hip. She turned slightly to look at the tender spot in the mirror. She could still feel the burn of the needle as it pierced her flesh and etched his name into her skin.

*******

Laura was awake. Her pulse was beating wildly and she breathed in deeply, fighting to restore calm. Beside her Rob murmured again, snatches of conversation, half formed sounds. Her mind raced, translating his dreams into evidence of his betrayal. Tears streamed from her eyes. She wanted to forget that he had said that name.

Suddenly there were barriers going up and secrets between them. Laura couldn’t understand why he was letting it happen, why he was allowing this other woman into their lives. He was usually was so strong, never taking crap from anyone but this was another side of him, distant, troubled and angry.

She turned to watch him sleep. He was calm now, but she was a long way from that.

Laura slid out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Half way down the stairs she paused to listen to the sounds of the house; the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, the tick of that damned clock in the lounge. She felt the coolness of a breeze and the curtain at the hall window seemed to breathe as it was sucked back against the glass and then released by the wind. She took another step and froze as the letter box snapped shut.

With her heart pounding Laura edged her way down the remaining steps. Keeping to the shadows she made her way to the front door. There was an envelope on the mat. Slowly she bent down to pick it up and caught the scent of vanilla. Rob’s name was written on the paper in a loopy scrawl. She slid her nail under the edge of the flap and eased the envelope open.

Inside was a photograph. At first she could not make out what it was in the dim light from the streetlamp, but then she realised that she was looking at a tattoo. His name engraved on someone else’s flesh. Laura turned the picture over and held it up to catch the light. On the back was written “proof of my love”. She stared at the photo in disbelief then slowly crumpled it in her hand. The sound of movement in the bedroom made her look up.

"Laura?"

She could feel the tears pricking her eyes again and rage started welling up in her chest.

It was then that she heard glass breaking. At first she thought that it was a window which had been smashed then she realised that it was outside. She turned the key and threw open the door, a milk bottle lay broken on the step. She looked up just in time to see figure disappearing out of the gate. Laura pulled on her runners and set off down the path. As she reached the gate she heard a car door slam and an engine spring into life. Headlights came on blinding her. She threw up her hand to shield her eyes and heard the car start to move. The rage still filled her mind; she had to end this, to stop this crazy woman ruining their lives.

Recklessly she stepped into the road her arms outstretched as if to catch the oncoming vehicle. She shouted at it to stop, but the headlights came closer, no sign of obeying her.

The force of the blow sent her flying onto the pavement. She felt pain as her skin was ripped from her knees; heard the scream of brakes and the sickening thump as the car made contact with something soft. She turned. Rob was lying on the ground, his hands outstretched towards her, the light from the headlamps bleached his skin to deathly pale.

"No!!"

*******

Katie stamped on the brakes and heard the scream of tyres on tarmac, then silence. She raised her head and felt the warm trickle of blood down the side of her face. The image of the body hitting the car was etched onto her retinas. She pushed open the door and stumbled out. A cry started in her head but it wasn’t her voice.
“Rob?!”
Katie watched as the other woman struggled to his side and tried to lift him from the ground. His head lolled back, his eyes were open and staring at her.

“Don’t touch him.” The words rasped from Katie’s lips.

Lights were going on in the street.

This woman had no right to touch him. He was hers.

She fell to her knees before him and looked into his beautiful face.

There were so many things that she wanted to say to him but the words wouldn’t come.

She noticed how the wind caught his shirt.

This moment of contact was enough.