Seven o’clock on Friday night wouldn’t have been doable if Nicholas’s house hadn’t had off-street parking for Kate to nip into two minutes past the hour. The house, semi-detached with period features, didn’t appear particularly lavish, but Kate had a feeling houses in Clifton that had parking for two cars within its borders didn’t come cheap.
Nicholas welcomed her inside, hair neatly combed, wearing white chinos and a diamond-patterned golf sweater. Kate nearly asked if he needed to see her membership card before entering, but thought better of it. Nicholas looked too nervous to see the funny side.
She followed him through to the open plan kitchen lounge, noting the neatness of everything. Framed photographs hung from the walls of Nicholas and his parents, Nicholas graduating, Nicholas receiving an achievement award from work. Kate didn’t doubt Nicholas put his all into everything he did. A ‘grinder’ was what racing folk would call him. Her mind took a sharp decline into the gutter and she turned a snort of amusement into a cough.
‘Hope you’re not getting the ’flu,’ said Nicholas, handing her a drink.
Kate shook her head. ‘No, just a tickle.’
‘Good, good. Make yourself comfortable then,’ he said, gesturing to the room. ‘I’ll put on some music.’
There was an undisputable whiff of his mother’s decorative influence in the soft furnishings, but that wasn’t such a bad thing, Kate was quick to tell herself. It’s just that cream lounge suites made her nervous when she was holding cranberry juice.
While Nicholas attended to the stereo, Kate took a closer look at the shelves of books and photos. She withdrew a random book to find out Nicholas’s reading tastes then pulled a dubious face at Tony Blair’s autobiography.
She couldn’t help but notice that in all the photos of the Borden family – on holiday, celebrating Christmas – Ben was absent. Kate frowned, and only partly because James Blunt’s simpering voice had suddenly filled the room. Ben had been absent from all the family photographs at Bill and Nora’s house as well.
She stopped at a photo of a young chubby-cheeked Nicholas, school blazer straining around his middle. He was sat with three other boys in front of a chess board.
‘You were captain of the chess club?’ Kate said, reading the caption and raising a teasing eyebrow.
Nicholas gave an embarrassed chuckle and came to join her. ‘I was going through a rebellious phase.’
‘Do you still play?’
He shook his head. ‘Never really enjoyed it, to be honest.’
‘But you were captain.’
Nicholas shrugged and peered closer at the picture, squinting at the boys’ faces. ‘I wasn’t much of a sportsman. And Dad wanted me to play something, so it was either that or the clarinet.’
‘I bet it served you well,’ she said. ‘All that strategizing and tactical play can’t be so very different from what you do now at your dad’s investment firm.’
‘It’s not so much “Dad’s investment firm” as it is just a company that he has a majority shareholding in. I mean, he doesn’t really have anything to do with it. I run the shop—’
Kate regretted speaking. ‘I know, I’m sorry,’ she interrupted and hastily shoved Tony Blair back onto the bookshelf. She tempted him back into good humour with a smile. ‘Anyone who can captain the chess team without even enjoying the game must be pretty darn smart.’
Nicholas gave her a repentant smile. ‘Sorry. Touchy subject.’
His smile wavered as he spotted the book Kate had replaced, and with a quick frown, put it back in its correct alphabetical place. He smacked his lips together and raised his eyebrows. ‘What say we head into the kitchen so I can check the food?’
*
Kate gave Nicholas ten out of ten for effort. The table was set with flowers and candles and while James Blunt wasn’t exactly her first choice of music, she could see what mood he was trying to achieve. It turned out he was also an ace chef. Shrimp and mussel soup was followed by oysters succulent beneath their crispy coating of breadcrumbs and parmesan cheese. She closed her eyes in ecstasy. She could get used to this.
‘Nice?’ asked Nicholas.
Kate opened her eyes. ‘Mmm. Delicious. A man of many talents.’
Nicholas gave his usual embarrassed cough-like chuckle. ‘My mother’s recipe,’ he said, patting his mouth with his napkin (one made from starched fabric, not like the kitchen roll Kate relied on).
Over dinner, they discussed the next day’s racing at Haydock where d’Artagnan and The Whistler were due to contest the Betfair Chase. Kate got up to clear the table once they’d finished. Nicholas beamed at her and sat back to allow his empty plate to be removed.
Kate was about to roll up her sleeves when Nicholas called through, ‘Just pop them in the dishwasher. I’ll switch it on later.’
A dishwasher! Goodness, she really could get used to this. As she bent to stack the plates and cutlery, a familiar movement in her nether regions made her heart sink.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ she whispered.
She quickly finished loading the dishwasher and headed back into the lounge where Nicholas was lighting more candles around the room.
‘Can I use your bathroom?’ she said, hoping he wouldn’t think it weird that she was taking her handbag with her. She could always refresh her make-up and use that as the excuse.
‘Of course. There’s one just under the stairs.’
Once safely locked in the WC, Kate pulled down her knickers and groaned. Yup, her period had started.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she muttered with unusual vehemence. ‘Why now? Why tonight? Why not tomorrow? Stupid bloody—’
‘Everything all right in there?’ Nicholas’s distant voice floated through the walls.
‘Yes, fine!’ she called back then lowered her mutterings as she sorted herself out. ‘No, it’s not all right. My stupid body has decided to say sod your romantic evening and aphrodisiacal food. Tonight ain’t going to be The Night.’
*
Nicholas smiled from his position on the sofa and held out a bowl of strawberries. Kate went to sit beside him, remembering too late she hadn’t refreshed her make-up. Oh well, he’d know soon enough why she’d taken her handbag with her.
With his arm stretched along the back of the sofa, Nicholas reached out and stroked her hair. ‘I’ve had a wonderful evening.’
‘So have I,’ she replied. ‘You’ve outdone yourself.’ She tried to think of something else to say, but with Nicholas giving her come-to-bed eyes, she could think of nothing other than her period.
Nicholas plucked a strawberry from the bowl and fed it to her. Kate realised she probably should have just taken a bite rather than have the whole thing in her mouth. It was an impressive size considering the season must be just about over, and it made chewing with her mouth shut difficult. She swallowed, feeling about as sexy as a sow, and tried to counteract it with a smile.
Nicholas leaned across and kissed her.
Maybe that was far as he’d go, Kate thought hopefully. Nicholas wasn’t a rip-one’s-clothes-off-in-the-heat-of-passion kind of guy. Maybe tonight they’d only get as far as second base.
He pulled back to gaze at her, hazel eyes warm. ‘How did you get that scar?’ he said nodding to her right eyelid.
Kate instinctively reached up. ‘When I was a kid,’ she said with a nervous laugh. ‘You know, just... messing around.’
Nicholas smiled and leaned forward to kiss her eye with tender lips. He fluttered them down her face to her mouth, where they became more urgent. He wound his arm round her and gently pushed her down onto the sofa. His hand crept round and found her breast. He squeezed it.
Ow, that hurt. It seemed the contact wasn’t enough though and he delved beneath her blouse. Kate felt his shuddering breath on her ear. His fingers were hot on her skin as they uncupped her breast from her bra. His thumb grazed her nipple, making it harden in response. He pressed himself against her, and, hands trembling, unbuttoned her blouse. Her bra unhooked at the front and Nicholas stopped breathing as her chest was laid bare for his perusal. He swallowed. Kate could feel the unmistakable hardening of his erection pressing against her leg.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he whispered, his eyes never leaving her heavy breasts.
Kate’s toes curled in embarrassment. Like a sculptor appraising his work, he cupped her boobs, stroking and teasing. Another shuddering breath escaped his lips and he leaned down to suck on one hardened nipple. Kate winced at the pain.
Nicholas wasn’t holding back. He was like a starving infant, except one with a helluva hard-on. She tried to enjoy it, gave a moan to reassure him and threaded her fingers through his hair. Nicholas whipped one of her hands down to his crotch and pressed her palm against it. Heat burned through his chinos.
Before Kate could stop him, he unbuckled his trousers and crept his fingers up her skirt.
‘No – Nicholas, wait.’
Nicholas unplugged himself from her breast. ‘Am I going too fast?’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. You’re just so lovely.’
Kate bit her lip and tried to pull herself into a sitting position. It wasn’t easy with Nicholas half on top of her. ‘It’s my fault, Nicholas. I’m sorry. You’ve gone to all this trouble to make this evening special, you’ve been a perfect gentleman, but—’ She looked down, saw her exposed chest, and tried to reassume some dignity.
Nicholas’s eyes were wide with confusion and insecurity. She reached forward and kissed him.
‘I can’t, not tonight. My—my period has started.’
Nicholas’s mouth fell ajar. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Right, well, okay. Um...’
Kate cringed even further. ‘There’s nothing to say we can’t carry on, but – well, you know...’
Nicholas shook his head and pulled back to do up his trousers and tuck his shirt back in. ‘No, of course. Not for our first time.’
Kate gave him a grateful smile. ‘That was what all the cursing you heard in the bathroom was about.’
Nicholas attempted a smile. ‘I thought it might have been the decor.’
With respective buttons done up, they sat in uncomfortable silence on the sofa, listening to James Blunt shudder through ‘Best Laid Plans’. Nicholas held the fruit bowl over his crotch until things had cooled down then held it out to her.
‘Another strawberry?’