Phoenix (8 page)

“Stop,” I mouth at him desperately.

He only smiles in response, shaking his head ever so slightly and not
moving his hand.

Then James arrives at our table with several plates, serving Deborah, Cathy,
Alison and his mother first.

“There’s my son,” says Margaret. “Such a good man, isn’t he? Serving us
all even though it’s his party.”

“You know I love to cook, Mum,” says James to his mother. “I’ll be back
with the rest of your plates in just a moment.”

He dashes off and returns literally within seconds with the rest of the
food. On each plate is a burger, some spicy chicken wings and a baked potato.
It looks delicious because I haven’t eaten since lunch, and I take a scoop of
coleslaw and another of potato salad from the bowls in the middle of the table.

“How are you finding working at St. Paul’s, Eve?” asks Cathy, addressing
me.

“Good. It’s a really lovely school,” I reply.

I think she’s referring to the school as a roundabout way of being smug
about pulling her car out in front of me the other day.

Once everybody’s gotten their food, James comes and joins our table, sitting
down beside his mother. His father is on the other side of the garden, eating
with a bunch of older men.

“Happy Birthday,” I say to him. “You wouldn’t think it was your party by
the way you’re running around after everyone.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Eve. I’m a bit of a work horse. I’m happiest
when I’m keeping busy.”

“An enviable quality in anyone,” says Margaret with pride.

Phoenix hasn’t spoken much. He is eating one-handed, his other hand still
resting on my thigh. Every once in a while he gives it a squeeze and it makes
me wish my skirt was shorter so that he could touch my bare skin.

The sun is going down now. Its fading light is shining on Phoenix’s
chestnut hair. I could almost forget that Deborah and Cathy are here only for
the fact that they have not once shut up. They speak of town politics as if it
is the most interesting topic on the planet.

Phoenix turns and gives me a pained look, as though he cannot bear to
listen to them for much longer. Under the table, he moves his baby finger to
stroke mine affectionately. Nobody can see. I want to rest my head on his
shoulder and breathe him in, but I can’t do that with so many watching eyes
surrounding us.

He moves in to whisper humorously in my ear, “If only I had some duct
tape to seal Deborah’s mouth shut.”

I try to keep from snickering. “Shush. She’ll hear you.”

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s been glaring at you all night and it’s
pissing me off. Shall I make a display to show her that she can’t have me?”

“Don’t you dare.”

Despite my warning, his tongue flicks over my ear and I stifle a moan. I
shift away from him and he chuckles low in his throat.

I continue to eat my food in silence then, letting the conversation of the
others drift over me.

“More wine, Eve?” asks Margaret, giving me a perceptive look. I wonder
self-consciously if she noticed Phoenix’s tongue on my ear before. “I’m going
to open another bottle.”

“Yes, I’d love some,” I tell her.

“Phoenix, would you like another beer?”

“Yes, thank you, Margaret.”

She leaves and returns to the table with one bottle of white wine, one
bottle of red and a beer for Phoenix.

“Would anybody else like a re-fill?” she asks loudly, to which several
people respond in a resounding “yes.”

She fills my glass and I’m beginning to feel a little buzzy since I never
really drink. Phoenix is watching me, ignoring the conversation going on around
us. The slide I’d used to hold my hair out of my face falls into my lap. I pick
it up and fumble to put it back it.

“You have beautiful hair,” he says to me quietly.

“Thank you,” I reply. “It’s a bit of a nuisance, though. I should probably
get it cut shorter.”

He takes the clip from my hand and then secures it back in my hair for
me, pulling the fallen strands from my face. Deborah’s attention zones in on us
and her red lips tighten.

“Don’t cut it,” says Phoenix. “I like it like this.”

His hand caresses my face lovingly.

My eyes flick to Deborah and she has quite clearly heard what he said.
The phrase
if looks could kill
springs to mind. She excuses herself and
leaves swiftly to go to the bathroom.

Well, I think that she’s finally been set straight as to the fact that
she and Phoenix are never going to happen. Or has she? I’m not sure how far her
determination is going to run.

A few minutes
later Margaret goes to get the birthday cake, which is a huge chocolate creation
with icing that spells out
Happy 40
^th
James!
on the top.

“That cake looks delicious,” I say to Phoenix, as the rest of the guests
gather round our table to sing “Happy Birthday” to James.

“Ah, you’re a chocolate person,” he observes.

“What makes you say that?” I ask smiling.

“You were drinking hot chocolate when I came to your house that time.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I am a chocolate person.” I give him a sheepish grin.

He leans in and whispers in my ear. “I’m not really a chocolate person
myself, but I do have some very creative ideas for using it. Perhaps I will
show you some time.”

My eyes widen and I shudder as a variety of scenarios flit through my
mind. There’s no questioning the seductive tone to his voice. “Hush,” I reply
shakily, afraid someone might hear.

Margaret begins cutting the cake into slices and putting them on paper
plates.

“Would you like me to get you some?” Phoenix asks.

“Yes, please.”

When he’s gone I have the chance to gather my wits after the shock of his
words. He comes back with two plates of cake, suggesting that we go over and
sit by the trees in the far corner of the garden.

As I try to find a clean patch of grass, Phoenix pulls me down by the arm
and I fall onto his lap. I squirm away, too self-conscious of people seeing us.

He places his hand down flat on the grass behind my back and his
closeness makes my spine tingle.

I eat a forkful of cake and it is delicious, just as I’d imagined. In a
perfect world I would wish away all of these people so that it was only me and
Phoenix here. And then I’d wish he’d kiss me. I like how his lips look.

I like how I can see the dark masculine hairs on his arms, since his
sleeves are rolled up. I like how he smells. I like how he looks at me for long
intervals while I pretend not to notice. I think of being with him and wonder
if it would heal me. I wonder if being with me would heal him, too. For all of
the physical scars he wears on his body, I imagine there are so many more
emotional ones inside his head.

“What are you thinking about, Eve?” Phoenix asks, breaking me from my
thoughts.

“About people and if we have the ability to heal one another,” comes my
honest answer.

“What do you want to have healed?” he probes tenderly, staring deeply
into my eyes.

“Lots of things.”

“Name one.”

“We’re at a party and I don’t want to depress you. Perhaps we should talk
about something a little more light-hearted.”

“But we’re already speaking about this.”

“Do you really want to know?” I ask, needing him to say yes despite my
protestations.

“I do.”

“There so many things, Phoenix. So many memories.”

“I know. Pick one,” he urges, setting his plate down on the grass and
moving closer.

I cough. “Well, there was one thing that happened to me when I was nine,”
I begin. “I was a solitary child. I didn’t have many friends, so usually I would
go exploring by myself. Behind my house there were fields and the foundations
of a new housing estate that were being put down. And you know those man-holes
they have in building sites, before the houses have actually been built?”

“Yes,” says Phoenix nodding.

“I know they’ve got something to do with underground waste pipes, but
when you’re a kid they look like magical mystery entrances to other worlds.
There are ladders that lead down to these kind of round concrete holes in the
ground. Being inquisitive, I decided to go down the ladder and see what I might
find. Once I got in I realised there was nothing magical about it; it was
nothing but a concrete room.

“So, as I was making my way up the ladder to get back out, my older
brother Maxwell and his friend peeked their heads over the top. Maxwell wasn’t
a nice brother, and that’s putting it mildly. He loved to torture me, so seeing
him there made my heart pound at what he might do. He laughed when he saw me
and I continued climbing up the ladder. When I got to the top Maxwell pushed me
back down the steps so that I fell. I was hurt and couldn’t move for a while. Then
he and his friend got some planks of wood from the building site and used them
to block my way out.

“Afterwards they left me there alone. I was only nine so my body wasn’t strong
enough to push the planks off the entrance. I sat in that hole all day and half
the night crying before one of my neighbours found me. It’s something I wish I
could forget, but I can never seem to shift the feeling of helplessness.
Sometimes I get claustrophobic, and I can’t tell if it’s from having lived in
such a small house growing up or if it’s because of that experience I had being
trapped down a hole.”

I stop then, astounded that so many words have come out of me. Phoenix’s
eyes are black.

“Why would your brother do a thing like that?” he breathes angrily.

“Because he was a sadistic bully.”

“He’s the one you are running from,” he says, understanding lighting his
features.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Phoenix clenches his hands in fury. “Why do I get the feeling this
incident you have told me about is not the worst of what he has done?”

I shake my head and look over at the other party guests. None of them
have noticed me and Phoenix sitting by the trees, almost completely obscured
from their view.

 Phoenix strokes me lightly on my back and I fall into his touch. Now I
do rest my head on his shoulder, just like I’d wanted to earlier. I breathe in
deeply and feel him shudder from my closeness. For a brief moment I press my
lips to his skin. His hand grips me tight and he groans very faintly.

“Miserable human beings will pay for their miserable deeds, Eve,” he
tells me.

His tone is dark, like he’s making a promise.

I think about that, but I don’t say anything. I don’t know if it’s true.
There have been some horrible people in the world who have never paid for their
actions.

“Let’s get out of here, go back to my place,” I suggest suddenly.

Phoenix studies me for a moment, then nods. He rises to his feet and
pulls me up with him. I collect my bag from the house and we leave the party
without telling anyone we’re going.

Back at my cottage we go into the living room. Phoenix sits on the sofa,
his legs spread wide. I hover by the mantelpiece, not knowing whether I should
offer him a refreshment or just sit down too.

He eyes the piano. “Play something for me.”

I look to my instrument warily. I have only ever played for Harriet in
the past. When I glance back at Phoenix the expression on his face makes me
want to play for him. I walk slowly over to the piano and sit down. Without
much thought, I begin playing the opening notes to Part One of Philip Glass’
Metamorphosis
.
I close my eyes and allow myself to be washed away with the sound.

I am metamorphosing right now, with Phoenix. He is luring me to open up,
to let someone in other than Harriet who is gone. His presence in my life is
turning me into someone new. I am revealing myself. I am shedding my old skin
for him.

A minute goes by and I open my eyes. Phoenix has moved from the sofa and is
kneeling by me, enraptured by my playing. His eyes are trained on the movements
of my fingers. His hand rests softly on my knee. I don’t stop.

Then I feel his work roughened palm slide up my bare leg from his
position below me. Slowly and softly, he pushes my dress up so that it is
around my hips. I hesitate and my hands fumble on the keys. I close my eyes
again and take a deep breath.

“Please, don’t stop playing, Eve,” comes Phoenix’s raspy plea. “No matter
what I do, don’t stop.”

I play.

He spreads my thighs further apart and crawls beneath the piano so that
he is between them. I’m overtly aware of the fact that his face is inches away
from my white lacy underwear. He groans quietly and I feel him touch his lips
to the lace, to the very apex of my thighs.

I whimper and my hands shake, but I don’t stop playing, because I feel
like if I do then he’ll stop, too, and I don’t want him to. Air hits my skin
when he gently tugs the side of my underwear to the left, exposing me. I can’t
see him, and that only heightens my senses as to what I can
feel
.

Something wet and soft touches me and it takes me a moment to realise it
is his tongue. My head falls back and I moan loudly. He grips my upper thighs
in his hands, massaging them soothingly.

Drawing his tongue over me in one long stroke, he emits an incredibly
masculine sound of pleasure. If I weren’t sitting it would surely make my knees
go weak. Then he eases my underwear down over my legs and off me so that I am
bare for him.

He returns his tongue to my sex, lapping at me slow and steady. He flicks
my clit and my hand bangs hard on a key, disrupting the melody with its out of
tune clang. He pauses, waiting for me to pick up where I left off. Once I do,
his mouth is on me again and I’m moaning, erratic breaths causing my chest to
heave, my noises mingling with the music.

I lean back so that I can gaze down at him and his dark eyes consume me.

“Phoenix,” I whisper.

“
Feel
,” he urges, moving his tongue in fast circles now.

Shifting one of his hands from my thigh, he strokes me gently, two
fingers probing at my entrance. I need him to fill me, and not just with his
fingers. Nevertheless, when they thrust inside I make a whole lot of noise.
They pump in and out and I can feel myself quickening, like I am on the verge
of something wonderful.

“You are incredibly tight,” he hisses. “Your taste is intoxicating. Come,
Eve, come.”

My hands fall from the piano to grip his head. Pleasure surges through me
so intensely that I even dig my nails into his scalp. I shake and quiver against
him and he gives me a few final, lazy licks.

Pulling him from the floor, I bring his mouth up to meet mine and kiss
him deeply. I can taste myself on him and it undoes me. Our tongues collide and
his hand clenches onto my hip.

“Now you,” I whisper, pulling him over to the couch.

Suddenly, he’s not moving anymore, and I’m not strong enough to shift
him. I turn and look up into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper again.

“This was not about me, darling,” he tells me, stroking a hand over my
cheek. “You gave me beautiful music so I gave you a beautiful orgasm.”

“You don’t want to…” I trail off, biting on my lip.

“I want to, Eve. I want to. Just not…” He pauses and trails off himself,
then finishes, “You’re not ready for all of me.”

“Oh.”

A silence elapses and I look away from him. He pulls me over to the sofa,
tucking me into the hard line of his body. We lie parallel, my head resting on
his chest. I close my eyes and enjoy the closeness, the connection. Being
around Phoenix makes me realise just how long I had been without proper human
touch. I hadn’t known that I was starving for it.

I fall asleep and when I wake up it’s the wee hours of the morning and
the man I’d rested against is gone.