Moving Parts by Lana Pesch

Author:Lana Pesch
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781551526256
Publisher: Arsenal Pulp Press
Published: 2015-10-14T00:00:00+00:00

Drinking with Clive had been fun at first. He would play Neil Young or the Eagles while she danced around the living room in her knitted socks, each toe a different colour: orange, yellow, blue. He’d sing, “I like the way your sparkling earrings lay,” and she would lean in, hands on his thighs, and circle the top of his bottle with her tongue. It always led to more, often right there in the living room. Sometimes a long slow fuck against the wall. Her Mimico bungalow became a refuge in a swarm of chaos, a private pod of tranquility.

By Valentine’s Day Clive had moved into Val’s place, and since neither of them were particularly interested in heart-shaped boxes of chocolates or foil helium balloons, they opted for a quiet night at home with a spaghetti dinner (his favourite) and a bottle of Prosecco. Clive had made his signature Caesar salad dressing using his mother’s recipe. Wearing nothing but her apron with GRILL QUEEN! printed in flaming red letters on the front bib, he whisked away in the kitchen. He brought the dressing over to the table. She rubbed his naked butt, and he leaned down for a kiss. A kiss that turned her sideways, then upside down. A kiss that opened up possibilities of a future where there were no complications cresting and crashing around her. A kiss that suggested a future of teasing and retreating, conviction and pleasure. A kiss that lived in a place she already felt a desperate longing to hold on to, like this moment, already slipping away. Val yearned for the quixotic kiss to play out, the meeting of flesh against flesh, a sensuality tinged with experimentation with parts of her that were less obvious, desires she had kept hidden for fear of being judged, broken, or mislead. Val had been protecting herself for so long, she’d pinched off her vulnerability like a bloom gone to seed. She was nearly hyperventilating when the kiss ended and Clive dipped his finger in the bowl, then held it out for her to lick.

“It’s important to get the oil and egg mixed properly. Critical, in fact,” he winked.

This was the kind of man she needed in her life. Someone she could hit the pause button with. Someone centred. She was too old for running around and playing games. Here was Clive, a man who prioritized things like family and music and moments just like the one they were having now. There was something else about him she couldn’t name yet, couldn’t classify, but she felt a growing admiration for him and his focused dedication, which, she had assumed, included her.

“Let it sit a minute?” she said, licking her lips and lifting the apron away from his body. “It’s just a dressing.”

He shot her a sudden look of rancor and twisted his hips away from her.

“You’re kidding, right?” He continued whisking with a renewed force, a rapid-fire approach. He was whisking like a propeller on a helicopter about to take off, the muscles on his forearms tense and bulging.

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