Drawing Blood (5 page)

Chapter Eight

Elliot

The movie screen at the front of the theatre flashed images of unimaginable destruction: toppled buildings, decimated homes, bodies littering a street that could have existed anywhere.

This wasn’t a movie. This was London.

Next a hospital ward was shown, men, women, and children bandaged and bloody. A man who looked a lot younger than Elliot sat in a wheelchair, his leg amputated at the knee. Next it was a night shot. That familiar skyline was lit up like daytime with flashes of fire and the smoke from burning buildings. The news announcer spoke of the straight weeks of bombing by German forces. He had to swallow. He’d never seen anything so extreme and awe inspiring. And terrifying.

The images of the Warsaw ghettos weren’t any better. The news went on to discuss the Italian forces in Egypt and their ongoing skirmishes with British forces. He had to assume the world was dissolving in to complete and utter chaos.

There was the sound of a slap behind him. He turned in time to see a woman stalking out of the aisle, leaving behind a Canadian solider Elliot recognized. He was rubbing his cheek and watching the woman leave. He turned eyes forward again, and caught Elliot looking.

“Sergeant Murphy.” He sat up straight and smoothed his hair, having the sense to look embarrassed.

“Glad to see you’re catching up on current events, Cleary.”

The young man nodded, cheeks colouring a bit. “Yes sir.”

For all his bull-headedness and irresponsible charm, David Cleary had a confidence that lent itself nicely to the armed forces. He was brave and intelligent but also took orders without arguing. It was unusual for someone so quick of wit. He would likely make a great soldier if he could just stay sober.

In training drills he showed great leadership but always deferred to officers when asked or ordered. The other men looked up to him. And if he was leading a charge in practice drills or climbing walls in physical training he was always aware of everyone else around him. He left no one behind … even in a foot race.

“Come sit next to me, Cleary. I’ll make sure no one else assaults you.”

The younger man climbed over the seat in front of him to sit down next to Elliot. He took a deep breath, eyes on the screen. “When the hell are we going over there?”

Elliot shrugged, eyes up just in time to see a line of Italian soldiers that the British had taken prisoner. “If we go, it’ll be Italy, England, or China. I’m not in a hurry to be anywhere near those places.”

“I’ve heard stories about China,” Cleary said in a soft voice. “It sounds … bad.”

The newsreel ended and Elliot stood. He had no stomach for a movie now. Cleary did the same almost immediately, fixing his cap in place. “Let’s go, Cleary. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Yes sir.”

With the majority of their brigade on leave, the street was full of people: soldiers, women, families out enjoying the unseasonably warm autumn weather. They strode casually, hands in pockets, past the restaurants that dotted the street.

“This place keeps a good pint, sir.”

Elliot looked up for the name plate. The Branch and Olive. How appropriate. He nodded Cleary in ahead of them. The place was full of folks of all ages and they had to take stools at the bar. Cleary immediately ordered a pint. Elliot asked for a soda.

“You not having a beer, Sergeant?”

“Nah. Crowds like this make me nervous as it is. I’m from a smaller city. I’m not used to this many people.”

“I ah … I’m sorry about what happened a couple nights ago. I don’t usually drink that much but my old man … he always knows what buttons to push with me.”

Elliot shrugged. “It’s okay, Cleary. The way I understand it, plenty of people have been waiting to clock Higgins. You’re a hero now.” Cleary just shook his head. “Pretty busy place tonight,” he changed the subject.

The younger man scanned the room. “Plenty of pretty girls, too.”

Elliot had to laugh. “You are a cad, aren’t you?”

“I try to be. The women here aren’t that forthcoming.”

Elliot paid for their drinks as they were presented. “Maybe you’re just after the wrong women.”

Cleary shook his head. “No such thing, sir. A girl’s a girl.”

Elliot took his first sip. “Okay. So pick one. Theoretically.”

“Sir?”

“Easy on the sir stuff. Pick the woman here that you’d be likely to make time with.”

Cleary was smiling at him like he thought he was daft. Then he took a deep pull on his beer. “Alright.” His eyes clocked the room like it was the horizon during one of their training drills. “There. Blonde. Black dress. Drinking a glass of wine.” He turned back to face the bar. “That’s the kind I go for.”

Elliot found her in the mirrored wall behind the bottles. She was alone, in theory. There were men all around her. She truly was beautiful and liked to laugh loudly. Elliot already knew she thrived on attention. There was a word for that kind where he came from: a tease.

“So what’s the next move?”

“Buy her a drink.”

“And you’re already lost.”

“What?”

Elliot smiled at him. “Look at that crowd around her. Buying her a drink isn’t exactly going to make you stand out.”

Cleary looked back over her shoulder. Sure enough she had a drink in hand, and she smiled at every man around her, not paying attention to any of them. She was tracking the room, too, probably looking for deeper pockets than any one of them had.

He turned back around, shaking his head. “Shit,” he muttered taking another pull.

Elliot smiled in to his cola. “We always go for the shiniest rock on the beach. But you miss a lot doing that.”

“So, if you’ll humour me, sir, who would you have gone for? You know, before you got married.” He added the last part quickly.

“I married my high school sweetheart. But I had friends who made plenty of stupid mistakes in all my many years of careful observation.”

Cleary was laughing along with him. “I mean, sir, sorry. I know you’re not old but -”

“Married feels the same as old right now, I promise.” Elliot turned on his stool. The room was loud and dim, but it was easy enough to spot a girl that would be willing to grant a solider a kiss or more.

He turned back. “Third booth down the left side, under the stained glass window. There’s a booth with four women.

Cleary was tracking it in the mirrors, too. He was quick to find them and he groaned. “No. A group? There’s no bloody way.”

“When it comes to male attention women in groups can see it as their own form of competition. They didn’t get dressed up just for each other, Cleary. Now see the one in the green sweater? Across from the one wearing glasses? Outside edge facing away from us?”

“I see her.”

“She’s been checking out the room looking for something interesting. She’s bored out of her mind.”

“Great. So how do you get her away from the body guards?”

“You walk up to her and ask her if she knows where the theatre is. If she’d mind showing you the way.”

“That’s weak.”

“And completely transparent . Before you get there, tell her how nice it is outside and ask if she’d rather just walk and talk for a while. After that, it’s just one foot in front of the other.”

Cleary thought he was nuts. “You’re not old but I think it’s been a long time since you’ve done this.”

“It’s completely safe for a woman to walk with a man she’s just met down a busy city street. Once you’re out there, pour on all the charm you want. Ask her lots of questions about herself. And if anyone asks anyone to go somewhere more private, it should be her, not you.”

Cleary just took another drink.

“Double-dog dare you,” Elliot muttered around a grin as he finished his cola.

Cleary put the glass down. “Well, if you’re going to pull out the big guns then I have no choice.”

“Good luck,” Elliot said without turning to watch him go to work. He could see just fine in the mirrors.

The girl was quick to smile up at Cleary. Not surprising: he was a handsome kid. She indicated she was having a hard time hearing him. He crouched next to her, and there was nodding back and forth. Then he stood and was introduced to her friends, shaking hands with each of them. She stood too, picked a coat off the seat, waved goodbye and led Cleary out of the room.

Elliot watched the group as they walked away. The three girls giggled behind their hands and leaned across the table to talk to each other. Cleary caught his eye in the mirror as they reached the door. Elliot tipped his glass to him, and Cleary just winked in return, then they were gone.

Elliot was smiling down at the bar. That had sure taken him back. He was always the married guy helping his friends meet new and interesting people. He’d set up his best man at his wedding. Those two got married the next year. Come to think of it, their wedding had been the last time he’d seen either of them.

“Looks like your friend found someone interesting,” a voice said from the opposite side of where Cleary had been sitting.

Elliot used the mirror to tell what he was getting in to. She was an attractive woman, older than him by a few years, maybe. She held a cigarette and a glass sat untouched in front of her on the bar.

Elliot smiled politely. “I guess so.”

“And what about you? Are you looking for someone interesting?” Her hand found his leg.

Elliot took her hand off his knee, smiling politely. “I’m married.”

“Funny. So am I. He’s in Iceland right now.”

Elliot felt his jaw tighten. “I’m sorry to hear that. Army?”

“Yes. Just like you, Sergeant.”

Elliot waved the bartender over for another soda. He asked if she wanted anything out of courtesy, but she declined.

She blew out a column of smoke. “Louise.” She offered on red-nailed hand.

He shook it. “Elliot.”

“Nice to meet a gentleman, Elliot.” The next soda was placed in front of him, and he was told it was “on the house.” He nodded his thanks. “I can see you’re married, but that doesn’t always matter.”

“It does to me.”

“Tell me about your wife.”

Her eyes were clouded. She’d had a lot to drink already that night and seemed to have trouble sitting still. Elliot felt quite sorry for her. “My wife is a fantastic woman. I love her very much.”

“She couldn’t share you for just one night?”

Elliot was quite surprised by her brazenness. “Ummm … no. Thank you. But no.”

Louise was nodding, eyes on the top of the bar. “Understood. But if you ever get lonely, I am here most nights Elliot.” Her hazel eyes flicked over him quickly.  “I’d be glad to keep you company. No strings. I’m a grown-up, too.”

Elliot felt his face colour as she slid off the stool, crossing behind him to move on to the next fellow three stools down. He took a breath and sipped his cola, using the mirrors to watch the bar behind him. All these young and energetic people seemed to be on a collision course for brief companionship. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this lonely.

He left the cola half-finished on the bar and caught a cab back to the barracks. He still had another twelve hours’ leave, but suddenly he didn’t want to be around this many strangers.

Chapter Nine

David

“So … are you excited to be going to Europe? Or maybe China?”

David was out of his element with this girl. Sure she said yes to going for a walk, but she was one of those smart types. He didn’t know how to talk to smart girls.

“I just want to do something. It feels like we’ve been here forever.” Then he backtracked fast. “I mean, it’s nice and everything. But … we’re learning a lot. And I don’t know what it’s for.”

“Well, you men make the scenery around here very pleasing,” she said shyly, looking down at her feet.

He looked at her in surprise. She was blushing, but she’d said it. David had to smile to himself. “Well, thank you,” he said while clearing his throat.

She kept smiling, then stopped dead in her tracks. He slowed his pace and turned to her, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

She looked to the steps of the townhouse next to them. “This is where I live.”

“Oh,” he nodded, hands in pockets. “Well … it was nice to meet you, Daphne.”

She bit her lip. “Would you … would you like to come up? I’ve got a bottle of red wine upstairs.”

David couldn’t hide his surprise. “Really?”

She blushed brighter. “Forget it -”

“No no, I want to.”

Daphne’s smile widened. “You do?”

“Sure.”

Daphne bounced up the stairs, and his eyes were on her back end the whole way. Why couldn’t he have met this girl a couple months ago?

She led him up a flight of creaky wooden stairs with questionable lighting to an even dimmer hallway, opening a door towards the front of the building. It led in to a small but cozy sitting room overfilled with a sofa and arm chair. Various items of women’s clothing were tossed around, too. She laughed, taking off her coat. “Sorry about the mess. My roommates were raised in a barn.”

He shrugged it off, standing just inside the door, hands in pockets. “The wine’s just in here,” she said, leading though a narrow wood-trimmed doorway. After a moment he followed. She was pulling the wine bottle down off the top of the cupboards, or trying to. He came forward to help, reaching up easily and grabbing it for her. “Thanks,” she said softly, not looking at him, opting instead to pull a drawer open. She pulled the corkscrew out then handed it to him. “I’m terrible at uncorking wine. I always make pulp out of it.”

He laughed, taking it. “No problem.” While he worked the corkscrew in to the bottle top she hopped up on to the cupboard next to him, legs swinging.

“So,” he said to break the sudden silence. “How many of you live here?”

“There’s three of us. It’s a two bedroom, but we turned the dining room in to another bedroom. That’s Lana’s room.”

He nodded, the cork popping out loudly. She pointed to a cupboard across from her, and he opened the doors finding a collection of glassware. David grabbed two wine glasses, shutting the cupboard doors again. She poured the wine into the glasses while he held them. She took a large swig from her glass, so he followed suit. It tasted like turpentine to him but he could tell right away it would still do the trick.

Daphne was studying him over the rim of her glass, her look hard to decipher. David was starting to feel like his skin was shrinking. He’d never had anyone scrutinize him like this. This must be what women felt like.

She put the glass down when it was drained, not saying a word in the meantime. He hurried to catch up and the wine burned as it went down; he could feel the flush from it in his cheeks. Daphne took the glass from him, grabbed his hand, then pulled him towards her against her knees. Her eyes flickered over his face before she leaned forward to kiss him. It was almost painfully soft, like she just wanted to brush her lips against his lower one. He stood still, eyes closed. It felt so intimate … so fantastic. When she did press lips to his, he responded a bit aggressively, but she made a sound that didn’t discourage him.

He slid his hands up the outside of her thighs up to her waist, and she parted her legs to bring him against her fully. He pushed the skirt up to give her more room. Her fingers were speared in to his hair, and she kept kissing him in that agonizingly unhurried yet incredibly passionate way. Her tongue was gentle and as unaggressive as he was insistent. He’d never known a girl to kiss like this. Then again, the girls he’d been with had only really been around for one or two goes. She kissed like she wanted the long-game.

When she parted her mouth from his, his entire body wanted to argue with it; but the look on her face stopped all of it. She wiped his lower lip with her thumb, smiling. “David, will you come to bed with me?”

One vote was immediately heard from below his belt. He nodded dumbly. “Yeah. I will.”

He stepped back and she hopped off the counter, taking him by the hand and leading him behind the sofa to a closed door. She shoved it open, entering the darkened room. She let go of his hand and he stayed where he was. He couldn’t see a single thing inside that room …

A bedside lamp clicked on. He blinked, taking note of the book case, dresser and bed. It was cramped too, but it was tidy. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. Now he was nervous. Usually this just happened in the heat of the moment. This start and stop had him waiting for her to change her mind.

She pulled her sweater off, and he swallowed hard. She had a slip underneath, it was also tucked in to her skirt. She reached around the back to unfasten it, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. When the skirt dropped, she chuckled. “Are you going to keep all your clothes on?”

He smoothed the front of his jacket, smiling. “I was enjoying watching you, actually.”

Daphne crossed the room in slip and stockings, reaching out to undo the belt of his jacket, then the brass buttons down the front. He watched her milky white fingers work before they pushed the jacket off his shoulders. She placed it on top of her dresser carefully.

He undid the tie; then she sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. The slip rode up to show a trace of her garters. She was watching him now, and her smile was small and private. David unbuttoned the dress blouse next, shrugging out of it and laying it across his jacket. With his back to her he pulled his undershirt off over his head, then turned back to her. She was still watching, but now she’d leaned back on her elbows.

“You’re very handsome,” she said thoughtfully. He moved to stand directly in front of her, and she gazed up at him appraisingly. “It wasn’t just the uniform.”

David went to his knees in front of her, and she sat up then. Her legs opened again as he wound an arm around her back, pulling her closer to him. He kissed her this time, trying his best to get a big reaction out of her. But that damn kiss of hers was keeping him in check again; like he was constantly asking for permission.

Her hands were cold on his back and shoulders. His hands felt hot to him as he fumbled with the garters on her thighs. He eventually got everything unclasped, and he stopped kissing her long enough to roll the silk off her legs. She watched him in that same way, still smiling.

“You’re very gentle.”

He smiled up at her. “I know these things are hard to find. I don’t want to rip them.” When they were off she grabbed him to kiss him again, her hands demanding but her lips carefully limiting. That kiss was going to drive him out of his mind.

David tested her by running hands on bare skin under the skirt, around to her behind. He squeezed gently, and she pushed her chest against his, moaning. He lifted her like that on to his lap off the mattress, settling back to his heels. She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding his shoulders. She was light but strong.

David kept kissing her for … who knew how long? He could live in that kiss. It was the thrill of not knowing if she’d let him do more wrapped up in the certainty that she would let him do almost anything. A delicious, perfume-scented paradox. When she stopped the kiss, her lips looked swollen. Her breathing was heavy, and it was the first physical sign he’d seen that she was at least having some kind of reaction to him.

She pulled up at the hem of her slip, and he let go of her so she could lean back and pull it off over her head. She wore no brassiere. Her breasts were small but perfect, peaked at the moment. A typical man, he cupped both of them immediately, loving how warm and soft they were, burying his face in her neck to keep himself from moaning like an oaf. She undid the garter belt, throwing it to the side as he pressed kisses along the pale skin of her throat. Then she reached for his belt between their bodies.

It was a task to get it undone, so he raised them both back up, setting her back on the edge of her bed. He was going to help but she was pulling that strip of leather out of his belt loops by then. Then she had the button undone and was opening his trousers.

She had one hand on the back of his neck as she pulled him down to kiss her again, and he braced himself on his hands, almost toppling her over.  Her other hand was reaching inside his pants, under the band of his shorts.

He nearly choked. While the kiss was almost setting a boundary, her hand was all-access, working him like she’d always had access to the equipment and knew how to use it. It had been months … yes, months since he’d had release without doing it himself. That would likely explain why he couldn’t stop himself.

He broke the kiss, and the only sound he made was a coarse, “Oh shit,” backing away from her hand.  She didn’t let go. He looked up at her, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. I guess I was … a bit over anxious.”

She smiled at him as though she wasn’t holding the most vulnerable part of his anatomy in her hand. “Don’t be sorry. Now we’ll have time to get it right.”

He blinked a couple times to clear his head, still frowning. “What?”

She chuckled again, taking her hand away. “I want you to last longer than that when we get right down to it.”

She stood and crossed the room, opening the door and leaving him kneeling on the floor. He looked down at the mess he’d made; luckily it stayed in his shorts. He heard water running down the hall before she came back with a towel, handing it to him. She shut the door then crawled on to the bed while he wiped himself off.

She lounged out on her stomach, still watching him, biting her thumbnail. “Why me?” She asked after a moment.

“What?”

“Why’d you pick me out of everyone in that bar tonight?”

David looked up, knowing he was frowning. “I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, you’re beautiful. I could hear your laugh from across the room. You just … you caught my eye.” He couldn’t very well say his friend had told him not to go for fancy hair and make-up.

She was smiling. She believed him.

He put the towel down and stood up, letting his pants drop to the floor.  He stepped out of the legs and got his feet out of his socks without looking too much like a goon ... hopefully. She watched him approach, rolling on her side. Her breasts slid over as she did and it was the only thing he could concentrate on. He climbed up over her, and she rolled her hips and stretched out on her back below him. David lowered his weight down, aware of how soft her skin was; how warm she felt. Her breasts and stomach cushioned him. Her legs came up to his waist, wrapping around him as her arms slid around his back.

He kissed her again, and this time the tentative lip lock was gone. She admitted his tongue immediately, stroking at his mouth hotly and her hands clutched his waist, nails digging in. Her hips moved under his, rubbing against him. His release was immediately forgotten. He was ready again.

Daphne realized it and gave a sound of encouragement. When she pulled away from his lips it was to ask if he had “anything.”

He sought out his uniform. He had condoms; never left the base without them. He looked back to her, nodding. Then he reluctantly got up and crossed the room to retrieve them. As he made his way back to the bed she started wriggling out of her panties.

He dropped his shorts, got the contraceptive in place and fell back on her in a flurry of hot hands, seeking lips, grunts and groans. She urged him on with her hips, and as he entered she pulled away from his mouth to cry out.  Then she fell back to kissing him and David let her muffled cries carry him away.