Mistletoe & Bastards (3 page)

Johnny nodded
in approval. “Looks hot.”

“It’s a little
tight.”

“I ordered it
that way on purpose—”

Of course he
had.

“— It’s a shame
for the world not to see your tits. They’re gorgeous.”

Just when you
thought he was bloody normal.

I punched him
in the arm and he winced as if it hurt.

“Hey, did you
get your email from Kirby about the Secret Santa?” Johnny asked,
giving his arm a rub.

I had. Kirby
had been right onto it after we’d parted ways earlier in the
afternoon. She’d sent out emails to all the gang, complete with
photos showing her pulling names from a hat to prove she hadn’t
rigged the draw for gifts. A bulleted list of acceptable and
non-acceptable items including ‘like, no rugby merchandise for
girls’ and ‘no gift vouchers because they’re like, totally, a
cop-out’, had accompanied the message.

“I did.”
Funnily enough, I’d drawn Johnny as my Secret Santa, though I had
no clue what I was going to buy a man who had everything except a
woman. A blow up doll, maybe?

“Who’d you
get?” he asked.

“It’s meant to
be a fucking surprise, you fool. How did you ever get a
degree?”

“Now, that’s
the Mel I know and love.” Johnny took a glug of wine. He swivelled
on his stool to face me. “I adore dirty talk in a woman. Swear at
me a bit more. But say it like you mean it this time.”

“Idiot.”

“More.”

“Fuckwit.”

He leant close.
“Jesus, you’re good. I’m getting hard.”

I glanced
briefly at his crotch, then rolled my eyes realising that was
exactly what he’d wanted me to do.

“Ha, got
you.”

“You’re insane,
you know that?”

He stopped
acting the fool. His hands rested on my knees again. “Only for you,
Mel. I’ve always been a fool for you. For some reason your stubborn
little head can’t seem to process the fact.”

I let it slide,
concentrating instead on our boss on the other side of the room,
who appeared to be wearing someone’s boxer shorts on his head while
dancing to some Christmas tune I’d never heard. It was a timely
reminder. Johnny didn’t mean it. Like everyone else, he was caught
up in the spirit of the season. Wasn’t he?

“So what,
exactly, is it you hate so much about Christmas?” Johnny asked. “I
know I’m probably opening up some deep dark can of worms no bloke
wants to know about, but every year it’s the same. You’re worse
than a kid without presents.”

“It’s
nothing.”

“Well, I know
it can’t be family, seeing as how you were spawned from the devil.
Come sit here on Uncle Johnny’s knee and I’ll see what I can do to
cheer you up.” He patted his knee and gave me a wink.

Draining my
glass, I placed it on the bar. What the hell. It wasn’t like Johnny
hadn’t felt me up a thousand times already without being asked, was
it? What harm was a grope with permission. A cuddle would be nice.
And Johnny was a great cuddler, if nothing else. He made you feel
as if you were wrapped in a cocoon of safety when you got in his
arms, like he was going to protect you and never let you go. I
lessened the space between us and perched-leant myself against him.
His big strong body moulded against mine. His hardness seemed to
fit perfectly against the parts of me that were soft. It felt warm
and nice and I relaxed, letting myself enjoy the physical contact.
God, he felt good. A little too good, in fact.

“This is the
best you get,” I joked.

He didn’t reply
but I could feel his heart thudding against my chest. He gazed into
my eyes as his arms wound round my waist. His hands splayed over my
back and became still, like he had no clue what it was he was meant
to do now I was actually in his arms. He blinked twice, very slowly
and swallowed. Seemingly, the small gesture had rendered him
dumbstruck.

“What’s the
matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He swallowed
again. What the hell was wrong with him?

Then, before I
could say ‘mistletoe’ he pulled me closer and put his lips to
mine.

At first, I was
taken aback. The shock of his movement made my reflexes jump but
then, as his lips moved on mine, I began to enjoy it. I wriggled
against him and he held me tighter. His tongue slid into my
mouth.

Shit. I was
doing exactly what I’d sworn to myself I would never do again. I
was kissing Johnny and I was bloody well enjoying it. In fact, I
wanted more. A lot more.

Shit. Shit.
Shit.

“STOP!” I
pushed him away, gasping for breath.

“What’s
wrong?”

“You have to
stop.”

“Why?” His face
seemed upset, like the world had suddenly come crashing down at his
feet, like the bloody Western Force had lost the grand final of the
Super 15, after the siren and by a point. Not that that would ever
happen. The Western Force would never make it to a final.

“I… I…” I
didn’t know what to say.

Johnny leant
into my ear. “Didn’t you like it? Personally, I thought we were
doing pretty damn good.”

Oh God. How did
I tell him that it wasn’t what he was doing that was the problem?
It was who he was. How could I tell him that?

“You know I
did,” I whispered back, afraid to admit it because I knew it would
go to his head and he’d never let me forget it.

“Then what’s
the problem?”

And that was
exactly what I kept asking myself. The problem was, I just didn’t
like the answer.

“You’ve got to
help me,” I hissed into the phone.

“What’s
up?”

I had Millie on
the other end but she sounded distracted. I didn’t know that she’d
be that much help.

“I just kissed
Johnny. Again. What am I going to do?”

Millie sighed.
I could hear noises in the background. Sam muttering something.
Then there was a giggle. Oh my God, were they having sex? I was in
the middle of a crisis and all they could think about was shagging.
The girl was already extremely pregnant. And they were married.
Married people didn’t have sex.

“Are you
bonking?” I asked, cringing inwardly that she might answer
truthfully.

There was
silence on the other end of the phone and then a stifled titter.
“No! Don’t be… be silly. Ouch Sam! Stop it! Tell me what’s
wrong?”

I could feel my
eyeballs reaching the ceiling. “I. Kissed. Johnny. We pashed like
there was no tomorrow. At one point, I even considered inviting him
back to my place. And I never do that. My house is my refuge.
Nobody’s allowed there.”

“And the…. And
the problem is?” Millie spluttered.

I was totally
convinced she hadn’t heard a word I said.

“The man shoved
his tongue down my throat, Millie. And I liked it. I bloody liked
it. In fact, I liked it so much I thought I was going to have an
orgasm right there in the middle of the bloody bar.”

More silence,
then, “
Hmm
. Totally understandable. Johnny is a very good
kisser.”

That wasn’t the
response I’d expected.

“Pardon me?” I
was starting to get a little bit short with her but it was her own
fault. I mean, how could one multi-task sex and a deep and
meaningful conversation? Something was bound to suffer and that
something appeared to be the answer to my predicament.

“You heard me,”
Millie replied. “Johnny and I kissed way back when. And he was
good.
Veeeeery
good — no, babe, nowhere near as good as you—
but still good. I absolutely get where you’re coming from,
Mel.”

I hoped that
was Sam she’d tossed that little aside to because I had no
recollection of ever making out with Millie. We were rugby women,
yes, but we didn’t go around performing homosexual acts for
entertainment. Not even after three bottles of champers each. We
did have some standards.

“But he’s
Johnny. As Kirby would say, ‘he’s, like, a total sleaze’.”

Millie groaned.
“Then why did you kiss him?”

“He bought me
tequila. You know it makes me flirty.”

“And?”

“I was
depressed about Christmas.”

“And?”

God, she was
good. I’d never need to go to a therapist with Millie as a friend.
She could draw the most minor things out of me without me even
knowing. “Alright. He’s hot. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Thank you.
Now, the question is, what are you planning to do about it?”

Well, I
certainly wasn’t going to go back out there and kiss him again. I
couldn’t give in to these feelings. Not with Johnny. It’d be like a
red rag to a bull, an invitation to a stalker. I’d never get him
off my back. And anyway, if I did do it and — God forbid — we began
some type of ‘relationship’; I’d never be able to trust him. As
soon as my back was turned he’d have his tongue down some other
poor girl’s throat. It was the way he rolled. Use ‘em and lose ‘em
had always been Johnny’s motto. Not that I’d ever seen him actually
use or lose anyone but, well, you know what I mean. Johnny chased
anything in a skirt. He simply wasn’t that good at catching
them.

“Nothing,” I
replied at last. I sat up straight on the lid of the toilet,
satisfied that I had made my decision. “That’s what I’m going to
do. Nothing. I’m going to go back out there, get in a taxi and go
home to my bed. Alone.”

“But he likes
you, Mel. He does. He’s not good at showing it, that’s all.
Underneath all of that crap that comes out of Johnny’s mouth, he’s
the sweetest guy. He has a heart of gold.”

Wow, I knew
Millie and Johnny had always been good friends but since when had
she been blowing the trumpet in the I Heart Johnny parade?

“In fact, he’s
a big bear,” she continued. “All loud and rumbly on the outside but
once you let him in, he’s more the playful teddy. A big marshmallow
really. Mind you, he’s going to need an awful lot of re-training. I
think he’s worse than Sam used to be.”

“Yeah well, I
won’t be re-training him. I had a teddy when I was a kid. I’m too
old for toys.”

“We’ll
see.”

I could almost
hear Millie smirking into the phone. Either that or Sam was sucking
on her big toe.

*****

By the time I
got back to the bar, I think Johnny had gotten the hint that we
were never going to take this beyond the occasional kiss. And I
don’t know why, but I felt a little let down by his reaction. Okay,
a lot let down. He couldn’t even wait five minutes before he’d
flown off like a Bower Bird to his next new and shiny thing,
completely forgetting he’d been trying to pash me into next week
only minutes before.

Because Johnny
had found something way more fun than me. He’d taken up residence
with the younger crowd of junior lawyers and a few of the interns
at a booth in the corner. There were girls there who made me feel
old and I was never insecure. Well, rarely. Okay, a bit when it
came to men but
never
about the way I looked.

Someone had
swiped Johnny’s Santa hat and re-adjusted it on top of his head
like a badly fitted tea cosy, its point poking to the sky. Johnny’s
arm was held out in front of him, flexed, showing the gathered,
adoring crowd his muscular bicep. Two girls were feeling his
muscles. God knows what drivel he was spouting to them but they
seemed enraptured. There was an awful lot of hair flicking and
lip-licking going on. A given, I suppose. Johnny was mega hot, rich
and intelligent. If he’d tried to chat me up way back when I was
twenty, he might have had a chance.

I watched as
Johnny signalled the barman to bring a couple of bottles of
champagne and glasses for everyone. He knew how to work it. He was
laughing, that loud boisterous laugh that was incredibly dangerous
and usually meant he was about to do something either illegal or
practically illegal. Which, considering he was a lawyer, was quite
ridiculous. He should have known better.

Well, I
wouldn’t be saving him this time. When he got caught leading a
naked dash down the street in front of our office I wasn’t going to
be the one bailing him out.

With a last
look, I gathered my things and made to leave. I’d been right to get
away from Johnny as fast as I could. He was a womaniser of the
highest order. No good could ever come from fraternising with a man
who could do the things with his tongue that Johnny could. Of
course, I was only basing this on his monumental kissing ability. I
had no intention of letting him put his tongue anywhere else.
Ever.

*****

About an hour
later, I was sitting on the sofa in my lounge wearing my favourite
Peter Alexander lacy bed shorts and kimono and watching the end of
The Christmas Shoes when the doorbell rang. Usually, I enjoyed the
minimalist decor of my home where everything had its place and the
only things on show were things I’d put there because they gave me
a sense of calm. Tonight, however, everything seemed flat and a
little too empty, like something was missing. It wasn’t a new
feeling though. I’d been having the same thought repeatedly since
Sam and Millie’s wedding. It was like they’d bloody infected me
with a need to nest or at least find a partner.

Realising that
a bit of company might be just what I needed; I pulled my robe
around me and raced to answer the door. There weren’t that many
people who knew where I lived. I liked to keep my private space
private and my social space social. More to the point, I guess I’d
never found many people I wanted to share my private space
with.

I stopped at
the end of the hall, facing the back of the door, curious as to
whom it might be. My place was part of a converted mansion house.
There were no such things as peepholes back in 1910 when it was
built which was probably lucky because if I’d known who was on the
other side of the door I may have had second thoughts about opening
it.