Bewitched in Budapest (Xcite Romance) (5 page)

I looked for words, questions, anything, but nothing would crystallise. I had gone from knowing exactly where I stood to having no idea.

‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ I said eventually, but it didn’t sound convincing at all. ‘Things are complicated for me. For both of us.’

‘A fuck is not complicated.’

‘Oh. Right.’ It was no more than that, of course. How could it have been?

He sat up and reached out for me but I held back, hugging my arms around my ribcage. I felt cold all over. ‘Well, thanks for being a good friend while Jodie was away. I guess that’s, well, I guess we can’t…’

He stared. He looked angry, maybe hurt as well. ‘Right,’ he said, standing and picking up his jeans. ‘Happy to help.’ He sounded viciously sardonic. I watched numbly as the jeans went on, then the sweater. 

‘Look, I didn’t mean that it wasn’t nice … I didn’t mean …’

‘You don’t know what you mean. You don’t know what you want. You don’t know how to live. I tell you what. When you know these things, you call me, yes?’

Still barefoot with his hair tousled to fuck he swanned gorgeously through the door and slammed it, harder than Josie had, after him.

I lay back down on the bed and burst into tears.

When Jodie came in with a mug of tea, I was headachey and red-eyed, cried out and exhausted.

‘Oh, mate,’ she said sadly. ‘He’s a bastard. Come on. This is proper English tea; there’s a shop in Balaton that sells it.’

‘Do you really think that?’ I sniffed, moving painfully into a sitting position and taking the mug. ‘About János?’

‘He’s a player, love. Renowned, all over the length and breadth of Budapest.’

‘You must like him a bit, though – you were seeing him yourself.’

‘He’s fit. No point kicking him out of bed in the middle of a dry spell, is there?’

‘But you weren’t emotionally involved?’

‘God, no. Oh, Ruby. You’re vulnerable right now. He took advantage of that. Shit, I should have made my warning clearer. I should have known this would happen. But it’s so unlike you. I guess you’re just not yourself after the break-up with Dave.’

‘So,’ I said, feeling a little stronger once the tea warmed my stomach, ‘how do you know I wasn’t just after a no-strings shag?’

Jodie’s jaw dropped. ‘Ruby! I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use the word shag before, let alone do it.’

‘Just because I’m quite a private person doesn’t mean I’m uptight about sex.’

‘Really?’

‘OK. I have been. I probably am. But maybe I shouldn’t be. Maybe a fling is what I need. I want to move on with my life, Jo. I think János might have been able to help me with that, whether or not he wants anything serious.’

‘Are you for real?’

‘Yes. Yes, I am. I want to, to, well, to shag János. I think it would be good for me. It would cheer me up. Is there anything wrong or bad in that?’

‘Of course not.’ She stared at me, shaking her head for a while. ‘Shit. I’m sorry I scared him off now. I really thought he was going to, like, break your heart.’

‘No chance of that,’ I said airily, though I knew this wasn’t quite accurate. ‘It’s just a bit of fun. I’m allowed fun, you know, now I’ve split with Dave.’

‘Good on ya, girl. If there’s one thing Big J knows about, it’s how to have fun.’

‘So, maybe I’ll call him.’

‘OK. But first, I have to tell you about what happened at Balaton! Then I need you to come down to Váci utca and help me shop for a new bag. János’ll keep. He’s obviously keen.’

‘Do you think so?’ I brightened.

‘I know so. C’mon, wash your face and let’s get moving.’

Chapter Five

IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE, AS ever, to be morose in Jodie’s company and we spent a pleasant day gossiping, shopping and touring the cafes and bars of Budapest’s most upscale districts. The only fly in my ointment was my inability to get hold of János on the phone. Every time I dialled his number, it went straight to voicemail, or at least, I presume it was voicemail – some robotic Hungarian woman’s voice followed by a bleep.

‘Hi, János, it’s me, sorry about earlier, please can we talk?’

Apparently not.

Jodie was all for finding me some other piece of Hungarian action to take my mind off him, but I wasn’t interested. Her efforts to pair us off in a foursome ended in my leaving the bar early and taking myself to bed, knowing in advance that Jodie would end up in the new man’s apartment that night.

She still hadn’t returned by morning, but had texted me to say she was fine and would see me later. I lay in bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about János.

He had been right here, on this bed, with me, and we had been so close … How would it have continued if Jodie hadn’t walked in?

I moved my hand to my pussy, thinking of János’ brawny brown hand there, or the maddening tickle of his moustache on my fattened clit. Which one of us would have been on top? Would he have been slow and gentle or fast and furious? Where would his fingers, mouth, arms have been? Would I have come once or twice or more? What does he say when he comes? What does he look like? Oh God, I wanted to know, more than anything, wanted to see his eyes screwed up and his face in crisis while he rode me into orgasm. I wanted that more than anything.

I worked my clit, thinking of him taking me against the wall or in the shower, over the window ledge, on the balcony … 

There was no way I was letting it end here.

But, as I brewed coffee in my dressing gown with a towel on my wet hair, I still couldn’t get hold of him. How was this going to work?

I racked my brains trying to remember where he had said that potential kert was. Something like Brossutska? I pored over Jodie’s street map, trying to locate it. It was a bad area – the Eighth District? Aha. Here was District VIII, a little to the south east of where I was staying.

Close inspection revealed the nearest likely location to be Baross utca, a longish street running from the National Museum in the west to some railway goods yards in the east. It wouldn’t take long to walk – I didn’t even need a tram. I just needed to cross József kőrút and keep walking down until I reached Baross utca.

Easy.

I dressed in an optimistic frame of mind, daring to put on the mid-thigh-length flared skirt I once thought too sexy for me – it was a present from Jodie – with espadrilles and a strappy top. With my hair dried and styled and my sunglasses on, I hardly looked like London Ruby at all. I was some other girl, some Budapest babe on the way to adventure.

Outside, the weather was warm, a little clingy and humid. I was glad I didn’t have a hangover this time. The exhaust fumes and city smells crowded together in an olfactory smog as I crossed the wide boulevard that divided the “dodgy” area from the “non-dodgy”. 

My phone rang. Jodie. ‘Hey, what are you up to this morning?’

‘I’m looking for János.’

‘Seriously? Looking for him? Where?’

‘I know he’s checking out a potential business premises in Baross utca. I’m going to see if I can track him down there. His phone’s on permanent voicemail.’

‘Baross utca? Shit, you’re in the Nyocker?’

‘The what?’

‘Hungarian for Eighth. The Eighth District. You’re there? Alone?’

‘I’m on József kőrút. What’s the matter? You sound a bit weird.’

‘I don’t think you should look for him there. It’s not the best place to wander alone.’

‘I can handle myself. I’m a Londoner.’

‘I know, I know. Don’t look anyone in the eye and if you see big groups hanging around, steer clear, right? Actually, just don’t go there. Come home.’

‘Jeez, Jodie …’

‘Shit, what’s he doing buying a place in Baross utca? Nobody’s going to want to go there. He’s a twat.’

‘Jodie, I’m fine.’

‘Put your phone away, at least. You’re asking to get mugged.’

I hung up and put it back in my bag, feeling a little spooked. Now she mentioned it, I could see that the tall apartment blocks lining the boulevard were not as well kept as those in other parts of town. The people on the pavements were mixed, but tending towards the less kempt. The side streets to my left as I walked down looked neglected and drab, graffiti daubed on walls and boarded-up windows. Baross utca would be one of these. What was János thinking of? This really wasn’t a pleasant part of town.

But it was broad daylight, not the time for gang-related activity. Surely all the shady characters would be sleeping off the excesses of the night? I took a deep breath, kept a cool head and carried on down the street.

It’s good to see a different side to tourist places, I told myself. It’s good to get a broader picture. Budapest thus far hadn’t struck me as very ethnically diverse, and around here you at least got to see some different coloured faces. Quite a few Chinese people walked the streets, as well as people with darker skins, like the gipsy musicians from the other night.

Baross utca loomed up after a much longer walk than I had expected. Well, this was it. I turned left, into bandit country, if Jodie was to be believed. Silly Jodie, always about the drama. It had to be admitted, though, this was the closest thing to a ruin I’d seen so far in this town. Once-handsome apartment buildings had fallen into chronic disrepair, the masonry crumbling around the elaborate doorways and window ledges. At street level, the walls were thick with graffiti. Behind the street, I caught glimpses of ugly Stalinist blocks filling the gaps between dilapidated 19th century façades. An old man sat smoking on a doorstep, his eyes silently following me as I passed. I began to feel I might be making a mistake.

A large archway set into the wall of one particularly tragic-looking building was open, giving me a glimpse to the courtyard beyond. It was half-gutted, the homes that had lined the balconies long since evacuated. A pile of debris including plastic toys and an unplumbed washing machine was heaped in the centre of the cobbles.

Male voices, loud and Hungarian, issued from inside.

One of them was János.

I nearly vomited with relief, walking through the archway and watching János talk animatedly with a couple of guys in high-vis jackets and hard hats.

The sight of him made me smile. I couldn’t help it, even though I was nervous and wondering if he wanted anything to do with me.

He half-turned, as if sensing my presence, then stopped dead. He flapped a hand at the other men and hastened towards me. He didn’t look happy. ‘What the hell you do here?’

‘I needed to see you.’

‘This is not place for you to walk alone! For fuck sake, Ruby. This is bad place for tourist.’

‘I haven’t come here to see the sights. I came here to see you.’

‘OK, now you see me!’

‘So should I go?’ Stung, I turned as if to leave. He grabbed my upper arm, hard, and yanked me into a corner of the courtyard.

‘You stay there until I finish talk business, right? Don’t move.’ He jabbed a finger at my chest to emphasise the point, then strode back over to the others for further loud discussion.

So, there I was. In the corner. I felt I was in some kind of trouble. János certainly hadn’t given me cause to feel welcome. I looked all around me at the jaundice-yellow stonework and the dark patches where it had fallen off and sighed. I should just write off my abortive holiday romance. I wasn’t a holiday romance type of person.

The men in glowing jackets left after another ten minutes or so. János called some pleasantry after them, then turned to me, lips a cold straight line beneath his moustache. ‘So,’ he said.

‘So?’

‘You are here.’

‘You left in a hurry yesterday.’

‘You said your goodbye. Why do I stay?’

‘I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. That wasn’t what I wanted.’

He stood, arms folded, leaning against a rotten doorframe, appraising me with cool blue eyes. ‘No?’

‘I didn’t want you to go.’

‘OK. Thank you.’ He smiled, just an upward tweak of the lips, then frowned again. ‘But you don’t come here alone, Ruby. Never.’

‘If this is such a bad area, why are you … you aren’t seriously thinking of opening a bar in this junk heap?’

‘Junk heap. Ah.’ He looked around the slum, at its four walls ringed with rusting balconies, empty window frames staring blankly out into the central yard. ‘This junk heap. I grew up here.’

‘Oh God, did you? I’m sorry! I mean, I didn’t mean to be rude. About your old home.’

‘It’s going to be knock down if I don’t buy. I want to keep it. I feel it can be a nice place, you know? Good foundations, good strong walls. Only landlords let it go bad, until there are rats, no clean water, electric wires are dangerous. It can be a lovely romkocsma though! I can see it, in my mind.’

‘A lovely what? I thought you wanted a kert.’

‘A romkocsma is a bar in a ruined building, is very fashionable right now, even more than a kert.’

‘Oh, I see. Well, if that’s the case, you’ve certainly found the height of fashion. This ruin could top them all.’

‘I think the Nyocker could be the next big thing, you know? Develop it a bit, it will be a good place to come. It’s my dream, to bring some money to this poor place where I grow up.’

I felt touched by this little glimpse of his heart. He had one after all. Jodie didn’t know everything about him. I wanted to reach out to him.

‘That’s really lovely,’ I said, suddenly all out of breath and weak around the joints. He was so goddamn gorgeous, even standing here covered in brick dust, wearing threadbare jeans and a thin top with a hole in the shoulder. ‘You could be a hero for the local economy.’

‘I hope,’ he said. His voice had dropped too. His eyes, alight with passion for his pet project, began to convey another kind of interest. He put a hand on my hip, gathering some of the material of my skirt between finger and thumb. ‘This is pretty,’ he said. ‘I don’t see you in a short skirt before.’

‘Thanks.’ My mind blanked. All I could think of was his nearness, his heat, his scent.

He took a step closer. ‘You come to a ruin dressed for a date. Why? Hmm?’ His palm opened and lay flat on my hip, holding me steady. The air between us thickened, sparks swirling through it.

‘Just … like to look nice.’

‘For me?’ His hand travelled up to my waist, slipped around behind, pushed me up close to him.

I breathed him in. ‘Yes, for you. I’ve come here for you.’

For a moment, he looked on the verge of asking me for some kind of proof or reassurance, but then the doubts cleared from his face and he bent his head and pressed his lips to mine.

This wasn’t the time for questions. We both knew the answer, and it lay in our joining together. We kissed in the ruin, sheltered from the chaos outside by each other’s arms, holding on tight, keeping us safe. The humidity plastered our clothes to us and made our skin clammy and slippery. János reached down to the hem of my skirt and lifted it slowly, his hand running up my thigh.

The kiss turned feral; we snapped and sucked and bit, pushing our tongues further and harder. János pushed me up against a window ledge and lifted me so I perched with my back to the boarded-up square.

‘I have to have you,’ he said, parting my legs and taking his place between them. He made a dive for my neck, nuzzling and nipping at it. His hands raised my top and homed in on my breasts. I could do nothing more than take it all, my eyes raised to the low dark cloud that covered the courtyard like a lid.

‘Have me then. I want you to.’

He was doing such delicious and wicked things to my nipples that I could barely say the words, but when I did, he growled and sucked at my earlobe. I pushed my tongue into the salty skin at the base of his neck, feeling the natural resistance of his flesh and refusing to accept it, kissing it as if I would die if I broke contact with him. His pelvis ground against my crotch, smearing my juices all over the thin knickers that stood in his way.

But not for long – once my nipples were full and fat and almost bursting with sensation, he turned his attention to my clit, pulling the knickers down and off with a flourish. I yelped with a kind of mingled joy and fear, glorying in my vulnerability, happy to be caught by him, with no escape this time.

His body trapped me again and he reached down to feel my pussy in all its ripe readiness. His face an inch from mine, he held my eyes and said, ‘You’re very wet.’ It was like an accusation. I was guilty as charged with nowhere to hide.

But I had the perfect riposte. Nudging my thigh against the rocky bulge that pressed into it, I whispered, ‘You’re very hard.’

He slid two fingers inside me and held them there while his thumb dealt with my clit. My head felt too heavy for my neck, falling back. I wrapped my legs around him, desperate for him now. ‘You have got a…?’

‘Of course. You want this now?’

‘God, yes.’

He took a condom from his jeans pocket, watching me hawkishly all the while, then unbuttoned and dropped the dusty blue denims and the boxers beneath. I wriggled on my window ledge while he made short work of the rubber – obviously an expert, but that was a positive for me now. I wanted an experienced man. I wanted a man who could fuck me properly, take me the way I’d never been taken.

And here he was, holding me by the thighs and preparing to impale me, the tip of his cock pushing gently at my tight opening.

‘You hold on tight, Ruby,’ he whispered. He kissed my cheek, my ear, my mouth. I laced my fingers around the back of his neck. I opened myself up to him. I shut my eyes.

He stretched me wider, sliding in, finding more than enough lubrication to aid his passage. He used his hands, his strong arms, to angle me so that he could rub my clit between strokes.

My eyes flew open and I stared at him. The man was a sex genius. I began to be afraid that he might kill me with orgasms, right here under this leaden Hungarian sky.