Headcase by Peter Helton

Author:Peter Helton [Helton, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2017-06-26T03:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER VII

I knew I would never feel this good again and refused to move a muscle. “Any more beer left?”

Annis reached out and pulled another bottle of Stella from the sink, opened it with her teeth and handed it over. Mmh. I lifted it in a silent toast before drinking deeply. It was reasonably cold. “How did this happen?” I asked at length.

“It didn’t happen. As far as I remember I’ve never got into bed with anyone by accident.”

“This isn’t a bed, it’s a bathtub.”

“Same rules apply.” She went nearly cross-eyed examining her breasts riding proud of the soap bubbles. “D’you think my breasts are too small?”

“Too small for what? I don’t care what size they are as long as they’re pointing at me.”

“That’s very shelfish of you.”

“As in prawns and scallops?”

“As in ever so slightly shnuzzled.”

We were on our third refill of hot water and in serious danger of prunification. “You haven’t answered my question.” I really needed to know. Our unexpected, if slightly disabled lovemaking had unnerved me. It altered everything. It interrupted the careful dance we had been engaged in for so long. Annis had changed the music without consulting me. Mind you, I hadn’t put up much of a fight when she walked naked into the bathroom and told me to “shove up”.

“Because I don’t want to spoil it by analysing it. We were bound to do it sooner or later and I thought this was a good moment.”

“It was an excellent moment,” I admitted.

“So leave it alone. You’re already thinking about later, about tomorrow.”

“Could be.”

“Well don’t, all right? If you’re thinking about tomorrow that means the moment is already over.” She got up and stepped out of the tub, leaving my bruised and now half-shrivelled body in six inches of soapy water. “In fact, forget all about it.” She struggled into her bathrobe without bothering to dry off. “I did it because I felt like it, okay? And I’m glad I did.”

“And do you think you might ever feel like it again?” Sometimes I really can’t help myself.

“Not if you keep going on about it, that’s for sure.”

My room was in shadow but bright sunshine burned through the cracks of the four-leafed shutters like a medieval cross of fire. Never mind body-clocks, my stomach knew the instant I woke up that it was lunchtime and said so. The rest of me was quite content to just lie there. Judging from the burning sensation down the left side of my chest, anything but lying down would involve pain. My head felt better — though I hadn’t tried moving it yet — but my side felt, if anything, worse. Had I not discharged myself I could still be lying snugly in hospital of course, having food brought to me at half-decent intervals, doing very little. Only in my experience no one lets you sleep in hospital after six in the morning. Now my bladder started taking sides with my stomach, which settled the argument. One piece of

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