Chapter Twenty-Five

Meg pulled into the drive behind Laura’s car and took a deep breath. So far, so good. No strange cars in the street or on the asphalt. She must be alone, undoubtedly asleep, unhappy to have a visitor at such an ungodly hour, but alone.

After climbing out of her car, Meg pondered whether to take the hold-all or leave her worldly goods in the car until Laura got used to the idea. Deciding to leave the bag behind, she made her way to the front door and leaned heavily on the bell. Laura could sleep through a freight train driving through her bedroom. The tune from her favorite TV jingle for hemorrhoid cream would never raise a response unless the stupid five note ditty played long enough to get annoying.

Finally, the front door opened a crack and a bleary eye peered out at her.

“Meg? Do you know the time?”

“Yeah, a little after eight. Can I come in?”

Laura sighed and stepped back, letting the door swing open. “Sure, why not. It’s not like we’re sleeping.”

We? Oh heavens, she had interrupted something. This had been a bad idea. Being interrupted when she had a man in her bed got Laura in a worse mood than being woken up early. “I can go and come back later.”

“No, come in. Something important must have got you up and to my house before sunrise dressed like an escapee from Willie Wonka’s bed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, to be honest I could use a break. That man is like the energizer bunny. I hardly slept all night.”

Meg stepped inside and glanced down the hallway to Laura’s bedroom. The door stood ajar but other than a broad expanse of back she couldn’t see enough of Laura’s companion to tell who he was. Giving up on trying to work out who her friend had dragged home from the bar, Meg followed a scantily clad Laura to the kitchen.

“Coffee?”

Meg nodded. “Sure.” Even with just a skimpy teddy on, Laura appeared more sophisticated and together than Meg did after a two hour makeover. She tugged at the toffee stuck to her hair and offered a silent prayer of thanks when Laura reached up for the mugs, revealing a pair of lace panties. She wasn’t in the mood for an eyeful of toned bare arse, so Laura putting on undies before answering the door was a blessing.

She glanced up and met Laura’s gaze.

Laura shook her head. “You know, I think toffee is out this season.”

“Very funny.”

“What’s not funny is you leaving me alone in a strip joint. You want to tell me why you ran out of the club last night? And why you think sunshine yellow running shoes, a crumpled lavender frock, and chocolate hair decorations is the current rage?”

Laura poured the boiling water in two cups, stirred, then hand one to Meg. Taking a seat at the dining room table, Meg gathered her thoughts. How much did she want to tell Laura about her arrangement with Sam?

“Didn’t Michael tell you why I left?”

“He said you weren’t feeling well. Something about being light headed because you hadn’t eaten. Why, what happened?”

“I passed out and he took me to his office. When I came round he made a pass at me and I stormed out.”

Laura sipped her coffee and shrugged. “Sounds like Michael. The man thinks he’s irresistible, and why wouldn’t he. Apparently he’s a wonder between the sheets.”

“He does? And he is?”

“You want me to answer that?”

Meg glanced toward the bedroom and Laura chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s not him. My latest lovers are Chad and Roger.”

“But you did sleep with Michael?”

“Someone had to check he was in working order before we hired him, and it seemed you weren’t up to the job. Anyway, stop changing the subject. You didn’t tell me why you’re dressed like a hobo and hiding out in my kitchen.”

“I’m not hiding.”

Laura shook her head. “No one in their right mind leaves their house looking like that unless they are hiding from someone. So, is it Sam? Did he make a pass at you as well?”

“He was still asleep when I left. The thing is—I think I’m a nymphomaniac like my great aunt Maud. It could be a family disease. Remember I told you my grandpa died of a heart attack when I was nine, well it was odd, he died in the middle of the day. When I asked why he had a big bulge in his pants at the viewing my mum told me it was rigor mortis. Now I think about it I am sure he was at it with Grandma when he died. He always seemed really tired when we went to visit, and none of us were allowed to drop in and see them without calling first. After Grandpa died Grandma seemed to have a never ending parade of men at her house mending things. Maybe it’s hereditary, it could have skipped over my mum and been passed to me and Sian. I need some space away from men to get my shit together. I have to get over my addiction before I join a convent.”

Laura laughed, spluttering to catch her breath. She punched herself in the chest, until she finally stopped coughing and wheezed out, “You want to run that by me again?”

Meg put her face in her hands. “I know it sounds stupid, but I’m horribly addicted to sex.”

“If you are addicted why did you run out on Michael?”

“I’m fighting the urge, going cold turkey, like you do in rehab.”

“Meg, you told me a few days ago you weren’t having sex, so how can you be addicted? Other than Sam you never see men.” Laura leaned forward. “Or are you finally admitting you were fucking him when I was on the phone the other day?”

Blood rushed to Meg’s cheeks. “Okay, so you got me. I’ve been sleeping with Sam, but it’s your fault.”

Laura leaned back and grinned at her. “Happy to take the credit for waking up your sex drive, but I’m not sure how.”

“You said I was sexually repressed and he offered to prove I wasn’t. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve done it in the last few days. Now he thinks I’m a slut and—I am.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t live with him anymore. Can I stay with you for a few days?”

Laura got up from her chair and walked around the table pulling Meg into a fierce hug. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry I laughed at you. I have no idea what’s going on in your head, but of course you can stay. I’m sure you’ve got things all wrong about Sam.”

Meg’s sobs subsided and Laura tugged her face up to meet her gaze. “You look like shit. Go take a shower. Did you bring anything else to wear with you?”

“I’ve got a bag in the car.”

“I’ll go get it and how about I stash your car in Mr. Vaughan’s garage? He’s away for a few days and said I can use it. You can hide away from Sam until you’re ready to talk to him.”

Meg nodded and wandered off to the bathroom, relieved to have found temporary refuge from the mess she had made of life.