Country Pleasures (13 page)

‘Or if any
body
takes your fancy?' Jonathan called as she swayed up to the other end of the bar.

‘You want to watch it with her, Jonathan,' Jack warned. The pub door swung open, and Maddock banged his way through. ‘Someone's beaten you to it.'

‘Nonsense,' replied Jonathan, keeping his eyes on Mimi's neck until she turned round again. ‘No-one ever beats me to anything.'

Jack started to reply to Jonathan's fighting talk, but was in time to catch the wink passing between Mimi and Jonathan.

‘I have to hand it to you, Dart,' he laughed, lifting the tin tray loaded with glasses. ‘You have them eating out of your hand, don't you?'

Jonathan laughed too, taking out a business card scribbled across with his mobile number. He flipped it expertly across the bar so that it landed on the drawer
of the till just as she opened it. Mimi took it, and slipped it into her cleavage. Then she swung round the corner of the bar and was gone.

‘How rude of me, ogling the local talent,' Jonathan said, following through the crowd. ‘You were saying, about the marigolds?'

‘Oi, you two!' shouted Maddock, and the two men winced. ‘You should check out the crumpet staying at Mr Ben's cottage! Delicious redhead, cute blonde.'

‘Tell us more, Maddock.' Jonathan nudged Jack, who shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the table. ‘Do tell us more.'

Janie woke up with her heart pounding, as if someone had startled her or she had something urgent to do. She had barely slept all night, despite being exhausted. Her mind raced and her body tossed and turned. The rain had eased off in the night, and for a short while the silence had started to relax her. She thought about serious sunbathing and swimming, of the summer really beginning, but here was the rain again, cats and dogs, casting a dull light over the growing day.

She was in Ben's huge bedroom with its whitewashed brickwork and dark beams crisscrossing the ceiling and walls. Lying like a starfish under the snowy duvet, she could briefly pretend that she was waking up to a normal seaside visit, just like every other time she had been down here: quiet, uneventful, usually solitary. If she tilted her head she could see the willow tree through the low window, and beyond it the hedge bordering the farm. Was Farmer Giles asleep in the ramshackle farmhouse, or was he staying in the grand Art Deco hotel up the coast, towelling himself after a shower and stuffing those spectacles onto his nose to brood over a sheaf of building plans? Had he and Maddock had a good laugh about her last night in the pub? Very probably. She curled her legs up, prickling with humiliation. The starkest picture she had from yesterday was of Maddock's penis leaping and spunking down her throat, his hands warm and gnarled on her hair. She remembered her own fierce rush of
triumph at successfully sucking him off. Then there was the weird knowledge that Sally had been sitting in the room with them, unusually quiet, watching it all. But she didn't want to dwell on any of that. It had all come too fast after her encounter in the barn. Or maybe it was that very first bout of sexual contact for ages that had made it all happen with Maddock; made her permanently insatiable.
That
was what she wanted to revel in as her toes stretched to the end of the bed. Her sexual re-awakening at the hands of the handsome farmer.

There was a slight bump from the attic above her. She waited for more: the sound of footsteps, Sally getting out of bed. Janie tensed. She didn't want to talk to Sally; she didn't want to talk to anyone just now. But thankfully there were no more bumps. Sally would have turned over and gone back to sleep, hopefully. God knows what she would be dreaming of, but one thing was for sure: Sally would be seeing her mate Janie in a whole new light after yesterday.

She flung the duvet aside and got up. It was still only eight. She pulled on a tight T-shirt and her bleach-spattered dungarees and creaked down the wooden stairs. She was sure they were listing more violently than last year. Ben always said that subsidence in a remote place like this didn't bother him. If the cottage collapsed one day, he would simply bulldoze it all and build another one.

Janie wanted to be busy. She picked up the cushions which had been left scattered on the floor the previous night and dropped them at random onto the sofa and chairs. There was a faint smell of wood-smoke in the room, and Janie found that her eyes were pinned to the spot on the floor where Maddock had jammed her
face into his crotch and she had sucked on his cock like it was going out of fashion.

‘I should go back to bed,' she muttered to herself, yanking the chairs and sofa round into some semblance of sociable positioning. But then she thought of Sally, still asleep, who had sat back and watched her sucking Maddock off. Worse, she had seen her frisking herself with her own fingers. She had seen Janie with her tits out and shoved in a strange man's face. And Janie had let herself into the cottage and seen Sally right in front of her, coiled round Maddock as if he was a tree trunk, and rutting with him all over the hearthrug. What kind of holiday was this turning out to be?

Janie picked up the cushions all over again to plump them up, and saw one of her paintbrushes dropped there. As she dropped it into her pocket she started to flush, thinking again of Maddock and his big boots and his swinging bull's balls and his muddy fingernails and sharp teeth. She knew his rough edges were right up Sally's street, but she couldn't deny that Maddock had pulled her into some pretty explosive action as well, made her do things she had never tried before, nor even had time to contemplate with her Farmer Giles. Her breasts ached this morning, and she had bruises on her hips and knees. There would also be scratches on her back from the straw. The farmer had been gorgeous and warm, and almost gentlemanly, considering what they were doing. She wanted to think about him, but his face and body kept merging with Maddock's in her tired brain.

This morning there were no men, no Land Rovers, no barn doors and shovels scraping. Just the dripping of the rain off the thatch, and the grandfather clock ticking loudly in the hall. She punched a button on the
radio to let the idle chatter of the DJ distract her, then went into the kitchen, set the coffee pot on the go and began preparing to sand down the cupboards.

‘Dressing like Andy Pandy isn't going to disguise what you did last night,' remarked Sally suddenly from behind her.

‘I thought you were asleep,' mumbled Janie, scraping furiously. ‘Coffee's on. I've got work to do.'

Sally pushed past her, yawning. Her matted blonde hair stuck up at the back like a baby's, and she was wearing one of Ben's striped office shirts.

‘That's Ben's shirt. Didn't you bring your own?' said Janie.

‘Found it in my bathroom. He won't know. I was cold in the night. What's it to you, anyway, misery guts?'

‘Nothing. Just that we're staying here partly as guests. Doesn't mean we can just make free with all his things.'

‘Bit late to start worrying about all that,' said Sally, hitching herself up on the bar-stool beside the fridge, and reaching for the cups. All was silent and a little awkward until the coffeepot began to sputter and hiss. Sally slid lazily off her stool and poured herself and Janie some coffee and added three sugars for herself. She stirred and kept stirring until Janie stopped sanding her cupboard and looked round.

‘That's better,' said Sally, who had been watching her. She crossed her ankles, pulling the shirt as far down her thighs as it would go. She had white fluffy socks on. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what's eating you? As if I couldn't guess?'

Janie started ripping at the edges of her bit of sandpaper, but shrugged.

‘If I've done something wrong, just tell me,' said
Sally. ‘This is the first morning of our glorious holiday. We don't have to fall out, do we?'

Janie shook her head, still concentrating on the sandpaper she held. She wished her mate would put some jeans on, or knickers at least.

‘Two things are wrong here, I reckon,' said Sally, slurping her coffee and shifting back onto the stool. Her bare buttocks squeaked on the seat. ‘One, we both went over the top last night, exposing ourselves to each other like that, not to mention giving our all to that Maggot, or whatever his name is.'

‘Maddock.'

Janie blushed scarlet again, and even Sally clapped her free hand over her mouth at the name. Then she snorted coffee down her nose as she started to laugh, and that started Janie off as well. She plonked down her sandpaper, picked up her coffee, and leaned against the sink.

‘And we weren't even particularly pissed!' she said, relaxing some more.

‘Er, speak for yourself. I was bladdered. In fact, that makes
your
behaviour far worse than mine, if you were supposedly sober! That's the funny thing.' Sally wiped her nose.

‘So I'm the pot and you're the kettle.'

They laughed again, and then just as abruptly stopped. Both stared at the floor, obviously remembering some of the really intimate details.

‘Sort of a case of, you show me yours, I'll show you mine!'

‘Alright, Sal. I'm sorry. I think that's it. If I'm completely honest, fantasising about hot sex with a guy is one thing, especially after my years in the wilderness –'

‘Certainly the wilderness down here.'

‘But seeing your mate at it, all her bits –'

‘Then her seeing yours!'

‘Well, much as I love you, I wasn't ready for that,' said Janie. ‘And I wasn't ready for you pushing me into it with that Maddock.'

‘We led the horse to the water, and it drank! You came into the room with that Wild Woman of Borneo look. I could tell you were up for it, even if you didn't know it yourself. And Maddock could smell it a mile off, even though he doesn't know you.'

‘But I can't believe I did it – did something – with Maddock of all people! His dad used to scare us shitless when we were kids.'

‘Well, it wasn't his dad, was it? This Maddock was like a bull in a brothel. He'd have gone on all night if we'd persuaded him.'

‘Do bulls go on all night?'

They creased with laughter again.

‘So am I forgiven for leading you astray?' asked Sally, sliding off the stool and pouring some more coffee. ‘Though you've got just as much of the dirty slapper in you.'

‘I'll forgive you if you go and get dressed. I don't think I can take any more naked bottoms. I just want to get back to normal.'

‘But what the devil shall I wear? Versace, or West-wood? We're not going anywhere, are we? Look at the pissing rain.'

They both peered out of the kitchen windows and sighed.

‘You can wear something suitable for cooking,' said Janie. ‘That's what you can do today, while I'm stripping these cupboards.'

‘And I've got just the dish.' Sally picked up her coffee cup and started to stump towards the stairs.

‘What's that?' Janie called out.

‘Shepherd's pie, of course!'

‘Great. And I like it with plenty of shepherds in, please.'

Janie opened the back door to let some air in while she got out the white spirit. A brisk breeze and a handful of rain nipped in and slapped her round her hot face, and she closed her eyes. Today was going to be good, after all. Despite propping the door open while she cleaned the cupboards with the white spirit, it still made her feel light-headed. She left the cupboards to dry, and went into the little room.

‘Today's a work day, madam,' chided Sally from behind her. ‘No slacking.'

Janie turned round. Sally was wearing nothing but some expensive French knickers and a camisole, all topped off with a ruffled floor-length cook's pinafore which she had tied in a huge bow at the small of her back.

‘Get the fire going, and then you're going to dress up as well,' she said, and Sally dropped Mastov's negligee over her friend's head. Janie let the silk slide lasciviously over her hair and cheeks. It barely made a sound as it merged with her own skin.

‘I'm supposed to paint the kitchen cupboards wearing this?'

‘Well, I'm supposed to fill your freezer wearing this.' Sally sketched a little curtsey, nearly tripping over the pinny. ‘Now, show us yer onions.'

‘In the little pantry thing. Now, first the undercoat, then the petticoat.'

They changed the radio station to one playing constant music, and got to work. After fuelling themselves with toast and marmite, Sally began preparing the lunch. The aroma of onions soon filled the kitchen as Sally chopped and peeled the vegetables and got under
Janie's feet. Both the girls started sniffing and wiping their eyes at the combined effect of paint and onions, and Janie had to fling the back door open again.

‘Get the mince sizzling, and then come out of there,' she instructed Sally, feeling quite peculiar and walking through to the sitting room. ‘My head is spinning with all the fumes.'

She twiddled the poker in the grate and picked up Sally's negligee. Quickly she stepped out of her dungarees and T-shirt and dropped the garment over her head. It slithered down her body, making her shiver with its cool touch. She looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. The light from the flames leaped over her features. The creamy silk looked good, bringing out a slight flush in her own pale skin, but her bra looked too hefty under the delicate spaghetti straps. It totally detracted from the design of the bodice.

She glanced into the kitchen. Sally was dipping her little finger into the mince and sucking it. She frowned, then picked up the jumbo tube of tomato purée and squeezed it bang in the middle, letting a long red snake wriggle out into the steaming mixture. The tip of Sally's tongue was trapped between her teeth as she watched the purée's journey into the mince. Janie reckoned she could guess what was going through her friend's mind as she flicked one last drop of purée from the tube's nozzle and licked it off her finger.