Hot Muse Hank and I are grafting. Well I'm doing all the graft, Hank is doing all the backchatting. To give me a little nudge in the right direction, I'm giving a little sneak peek of this story. It's Wynne, who you've all been introduced to. Last story of Season of Love Vol. One. Valentine's Day, an absent boyfriend and a friend who wants more and he knows just the place to go and get it...
Wyyne's Surprise © Billy London
She woke up with a jolt, tucked between the velvet softness of her sofa and the dense muscles of Bren’s chest. He stirred above her head.
“Are you okay?”
“I had the weirdest dream.”
“About?” he asked on a yawn.
“I had three tits and you were fondling all of them.”
Bren burst out laughing. “Why on earth would you dream about that?”
“I don’t even know.” She lifted her head and squinted at the clock. Midnight. It honestly felt like days had passed.
“Some nap,” Bren yawned again, untangling his arms from her body to stand up. He looked adorably rumpled. “Do you want some tea?”
“Yeah, and maybe a snack or something.”
“Yes madam,” he sarked, strolling into the kitchen and leaving Wynne to sit up. The sensation of oddness hadn’t abated with the nap, and the strange dream only compounded matters. Who needs three breasts? The overwhelming emotion that came from the dream was how much she’d enjoyed Bren’s manipulations.
She noticed her phone on the table by the lamp. Masochism forced her to her feet and to pick up the mobile. While Bren made tea in the background, Wynne stared at the screen. Okay, maybe she’d crossed a few lines, perhaps a page or a notebook of lines, or rather they both had, but at least they hadn’t crossed it all the way. Six missed calls from Robert, seared her with guilt. Discomfort forced her to read the text messages he’d sent:
I’m sorry about today. Can you call me?
Wynnie it’s Valentine’s Day. Why won’t you answer?
Have you gone out?
You’re being really disrespectful.
“Tea,” Bren said and Wynne jumped in fright. She whipped around and saw him holding two mugs, an eyebrow curled. “I did tell you I was making it.”
“Yes, yes you did. Sorry.” She repeated the apology before taking the mug into her hands. Bren glanced down at her phone.
She hesitated. Bren took the tea and nodded her in the direction of her bedroom. “Go and call him.”
Wynne blinked, leaning away from him. “What?”
“Call him and tell him you’re going on a break. You’ll be back in a week, and you can talk then. If you want to.”
Word for word exactly what she wanted to say to Robert. Clearly, Bren was a better friend to her than to Robert. “Okay. I’ll be a few minutes.”
She scampered to her bedroom and gently closed the door behind her, resting against the wood for some semblance of reality to lock her to the ground. That line she’d crossed with Bren a few hours ago seemed more and more blurred. Technically, not calling your girlfriend on Valentine’s Day until after she agreed to a holiday with her male friend she had intense sexual feelings for, could be considered as a break up. Right?
With a deep breath, she dialled Robert’s number. When he answered she had to hold the phone away from her ear to understand what the devil he was shouting about.
“...inconsiderate bullshit I’ve ever come across! Where the fuck are you?”
Wynne’s mouth tightened, her chest heaving with indignation. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that. How dare you?”
He was silent for a moment, but launched back in. “You haven’t answered my calls for five hours. Where are you?”
“At home. To be honest, I didn’t want to speak to you and you’ve proved me right.”
“Look, I was going to say that everything’s clear now for us to take the holiday now...”
“I don’t want to go with you,” she said bluntly.
“You heard me. I don’t want to go with you. The inconsideration has come from you, it always comes from you and you have the temerity to call me and say I’ve been inconsiderate? I am always apologising to you. I am always saying sorry. For what? I haven’t done anything, except try to do something good for us, as a couple. And you Dragon’s Den-d me. So, I’m going on that holiday. But not with you.”
“Who are you going with?”
“Think of it as none of your business any more. You’ve got what you want Robert. You’re single again.”
She ended the call and threw the phone onto her bed, where it collided with the side of her suitcase. Well, that made it official. Single and ready to mingle. Under Bren...
Stop and be quiet, she told herself firmly. The case had been packed for the better part of a week, and now, she wanted to change everything inside it. She chucked out her old faithful, thinking that Robert wouldn’t mind, and decided to buy some new bikinis at the airport. Instead of the tried and tested linens that were smart and cool, she packed in floaty silk shirts and maxi dresses that she’d worn to weddings. The fancy cardigans that were studded, edged with pearls or with sequins, ones that were too nice for anything else, went inside the case, along with four different pairs of sandals and three varying heels of different heights, finally she shoved in two flip flops. That would be sufficient, unless something else at the airport took her fancy.
A knock sounded on her door and she reached back to open it, only to body slam her suitcase, to try and close it.
“Wynnie, what are you doing?” Bren asked.
“Packing, chum.” She turned her head to grin at him. “I may have overdone it.”
He scooped an arm around her waist and lifted her from the strained case. “Stand up. I’ll close it and you zip. All right?”
“Teamwork,” she said giving him two thumbs up of approval. “Got it.”
With his two large hands, Bren pushed down on the case, his arms framing Wynne. He traced a kiss in her hair and said, “Go. Quick now.”
Reaching forward, Wynne found Bren’s groin pressed into her bottom and her face flamed with embarrassment and lust.
“You’re not zipping.”
“You’re sort of grinding me.”
He sighed. “I’ve already done that tonight. It wasn’t like this.” Accurate. “Zip, woman. Zip!”
She did as bid, the metal teeth catching her lone, acceptable bikini. Reversing, she shoved the material into safety and continued until the case was closed. Bren turned her around, one arm around her waist and kissed her all too briefly.
“Everything all right? You’ve made quite a mess.”
Mess of my life or my room? She instead murmured in agreement. “What time’s the flight?”
“Can we leave early? I need to do some shopping.”
He looked over her head to her case. “And where will you fit it?”
Wynne grinned at him. “Isn’t that what your case is for?”
“No, but I’ll let you this once.” He lifted the case from her bed. “Do you want another nap, or do you want to stay up?”
“I could really do with some more sleep. I’m all sorts of tired.”
Bren placed the suitcase at the end of her bed, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You go to sleep. No flatmates tonight?”
“They’re all out with their significant others.” He smelled so lovely. Familiar and comforting.
“Then you’ll have all the rest you need. I’ll get you up in a few hours, especially if you want to shop.”
“I do,” she admitted, looking over his arm at the discarded pile of old bikinis. “I really do.”