Dirty Seduction

JULIAN

PETER was quite at odds with the people i’d known back in oxford. Katreya and I had usually associated with business colleagues, and outside of that I’d had my circle of university friends, who’d been raised in the same kind of educational background. The contrast was palpable.

Peter was grounded, very down to earth, with a battered self-image that I recognised in myself. I liked him.

He peeled potatoes while I herbed up the steaks. His hands were huge and rugged, unlike mine. My hands had never seen what Peter would call hard graft, much more suited to a keyboard than anything labour intensive. Amidst our laughter and chatting, my mind whirred through the things Rosie had shared with me about his relationship with Lola.

I knew Peter was as sex-obsessed as I was. Well… almost. I also knew he was an extremely rough player, and that Lola had taken his entire hand in her sweet little pussy.

“Do these look alright?” Peter asked as he finished up cutting the potatoes into chunks.

“Perfect, thank you.”

“Got to admit, Lola does the cooking, usually. She learned it from her mum.”

I used that as the opportunity to dig into their dilemma.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“How does Lola handle being without her mother? I know she and Rosie have shared some similar emotions on that front.”

“It’s shit,” he said. “Can’t help but blame myself. I’ve tried talking to Steph to smooth things over, but she won’t have any of it. Screams that I’m a sick fuck and slams the door in my face. Lola doesn’t get it much easier.”

“Do you think that will ever change?”

“Gotta hope, haven’t you? Don’t think I’ll ever be invited over for a Sunday roast, but if Steph finally speaks to Lola again, I’ll be a very happy guy. She needs that.”

I knew that Rosie shared that need. She needed contact from her mother, too. I’d been holding her through plenty of tears, even though she was trying to play it down. I knew being away from Beverly was stabbing her deep in the heart, as it would any young woman losing her parent. Or any child losing their parent.

A flashing image of Grace and Ryan came to me that I had to push aside. Hard.

Peter liked drinking whisky, as did I. We tried a few different blends after delivering the girls the rest of the bottle of wine to the coffee table. It was clear Peter was seeking a friend in me, just as I was unknowingly seeking out a friend in return. He stayed alongside me as I began to fry the potatoes, even taking care of them himself while his partner and I shared a cigarette out of the window.

“Lola said you’re an author,” Peter said, when I returned to the kitchen.

I chuckled. “A wannabe author. I had a massive pile of rejection letters when I was younger, and gave up when I became a lecturer. Limited time and a bigger dose of realism.”

“I used to draw when I was younger. I was normally busy helping my dad out on jobs around school, but when I wasn’t, I’d get a sketchbook and do some scribbling. It was all shit, but I liked it.” He paused. “Lola says your writing is great, though.”

I chuckled again. “Lola hasn’t read any of my writing. She’s heard that second hand from Rosie, who is very biased.”

“Will you let her read some of it? She’s been harping on about it for days.”

A few whiskies had definitely helped lighten me up. The idea seemed more appealing than I’d anticipated.

“Maybe. It’s quite extreme.”

“She’ll like that. She likes it extreme.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m sure you’ve heard the same in return.”

I saw him look at the whisk in the utensils pot, and yes, he knew. Lola enjoyed talking to Peter, just as Rosie enjoyed talking to me.

“People say I’m a nasty freak,” Peter sighed. “They’d think I was a lot nastier a freak if they knew the full story. They’d say I’m a filthy piece of shit.”

“Rosie has helped me a lot with self-reflection. She asked some key basic questions about my past that couldn’t help but hit home. I’ll grace you with her wisdom. Is it consensual? With Lola?”

“Yeah, of course, always. Totally.”

“And she’s legal age. She knows her own mind?”

He laughed. “Yeah, she definitely knows her own mind.”

“There you go, then. You aren’t a criminal.”

He watched me take another swig of whisky before I resumed stirring the potatoes.

“Do you believe that now? That what you did was right? Back in Oxford, I mean. Not just here.”

“I’m trying to, but regardless of the answers to those key questions, it was an abuse of professional power, and I was a married man. They are very different circumstances to yours.” I looked at him in honesty. “The people in Dine’s Green are after you purely because of the age gap between you and Lola. Brush it off. You’ve fallen for her, she’s fallen for you. You shouldn’t be a convict. You were neighbours who fell in love.”

“I love your take on it.”

“It’s true. My crimes are tenfold of yours.”

“Maybe in the past. Not with Rosie, though. Same scenario. Here it’s just about the age gap. You were neighbours who fell in love.”

I smirked, repeating his sentiment. “I love your take on it.”

“Maybe we should take each other’s take on it, then.”

“Quite.”

He was correct. I didn’t judge Peter and Lola’s relationship as anything other than a large age gap that people had an aversion to. Was my own situation any different in this instance? No. It wasn’t.

“Rosie’s really cute,” Peter said. “Lola’s been singing her praises every five seconds.”

“Same in return. Rosie’s had plenty of nice things to say about Lola. I’m very happy for them. She’s an artist, yes? Rosie’s seen some of her work. She says it’s exceptional.”

“It is, yeah. She’s fantastic, always blows me away. She takes in every single thing she can from art college and makes it a bloody masterpiece. I just wish I’d done the same when I was her age. I might still be shit, but I’d have had a chance at getting better.”

“Do you still give it a go?”

“Sometimes. I show Lola most of it, but some bits I don’t.”

I knew that feeling. It was another round of mutual territory between us.

The girls laughed loudly enough from the living room that we heard them over the steaks sizzling. Peter grinned as he heard it.

“Thanks for having us here, seriously. It’s ace. Just what we needed.”

“Touche. You’re very welcome.”

I looked at him once I’d flipped the steaks again, imagining how freeing it would be to see Peter and Lola out in public together without the confines of the estate that had boxed them in. Not in Crenham, with the same judgemental attitude, but far away. Somewhere more cosmopolitan.

Maybe I could arrange some time away, for all four of us. I’d talk to Rosie about it.

Dinner was a delight. The drink flowed and the steaks were devoured, and Peter smiled proudly as I told Lola what a fantastic chef’s assistant he’d been.

“I’ll be remembering that,” she giggled, gesturing at him with her wine glass. “You’ve made a rod for your own back, now. You can be peeling potatoes in the kitchen with me.”

Somehow I doubted it would be a rod for his own back he’d be making. I could already see the hunger he had in his eyes for the little minx sitting opposite him. His sexuality was definitely a beast, enlivened by the whisky, as was mine. Rosie was shooting me glances of her own, and it was clear that the girls had been talking dirtily about us while we’d been busy in the kitchen. The sexual tension was intense. I knew the question was coming from Rosie before she even spoke.

“Can Lola read some of your chapters, Julian? She’d really like to.”

“Yeah, I would. Please,” Lola chimed in. “I love that kind of thing.”

“Filthy erotica, you mean?” I said, with a smirk. “My chapters are very hardcore. I’m sure you know that already, though.”

“Yeah, I do.” She laughed. “It’s why I want to read it even more.”

Peter nudged my elbow. “Let her read a load of it, please. I’ll get the benefits back home later.”

I still felt slightly strange about the idea as I sipped at my whisky. Letting Lola read my writing would feel as though I was being exposed, somehow. Not from the content per se, but from the exposure of my emotional and creative process.

“Go on, Julian,” Rosie pushed. “Say yes!”

Her wine drunk eyes were so imploring. Her voice so sweet.

“How could I ever refuse you anything?” I said, then looked at Lola. “Yes, you can read some of my chapters. I’d be honoured.”

That sealed the deal. As soon as we’d finished up the apple and blackberry crumble I’d made for dessert, I cleared the table with Peter’s help and set up my laptop for Lola. My nerves were uncharacteristically thrumming as she devoured the pages with Rosie alongside her, as though I was awaiting a jury verdict.

One word said it all, when she was done with the very first scene.

“Wow!”

“You enjoyed it?” I asked her, and her nod spoke volumes.

“Enjoyed it?! It’s fucking amazing.” She clapped her hands together. “More, please! I know you’ve got loads of them.”

“Alright,” I said, and called up the next.

Peter and I sat on the chesterfield as the girls read and chatted. I got so many thumbs up and mini rounds of applause, that I became heady on both whisky and satisfaction. I could have played it down as nothing more than two friends having fun and reading hot sex between them, but Lola’s comments and praise were based around more than that just as Rosie’s were. The pair of them would quote lines that stood out in particular, admiring my prose. They commented on everything from pace, to characterisation, to tension and tiny details. All of which meant a lot.

It seemed that teaching others had most certainly had an impact on my own strengths as a writer. What a welcome benefit.

Before we knew it, the early hours were upon us. The girls were into the realms of giggling drunks, which was deliciously uplifting, and Peter and I had consumed almost a whole bottle of Scotch between us.

“Time to go,” Peter said, finally, and Lola didn’t argue as he called a taxi.

She gave Rosie a huge hug when it was due to pull up outside.

“That was amazing, thanks. See you on Monday.”