| nnn |
 |
| PLEASANT CHALLENGE by Janey Marie stared open mouthed at James. Had she really heard him correctly? James however was still ranting despite the fact that no one was actually concerned with listening to him anymore. Nicky had quite brazenly turned his back to him; Sean was staring at his feet like they had suddenly become the most interesting and beguiling things upon the planet, and Martin and Terri were deep in their own private conversation. “And for another thing…” “Oh James, go and boil your head!” Marie stunned him by smiling sweetly, sticking her tongue out at him, blowing him a kiss and then walking off to make a phone call. Martin, Terri, Sean and Nicky gaped open mouthed; afraid at what James may do at such a public display of contempt. To their relief he broke into a smile and then started laughing raucously. “Damn you woman,” he chuckled. “No one has ever put me down with such style; you really are something.” Now busy on the telephone, Marie continued smiling at him, and winked at Nicky as he pierced her with a questioning look, almost as if he was saying ‘how come he didn’t shout and scream at you like he would have done if it was one of us?’ For her part Marie had no answer to that question either. All she knew was that with her, James would blow a gasket rant and rave for a while, she would then tell him to shut up, or some such thing, and just leave him. For her it worked; Sean tried it one day and James practically attacked him. The cause of their argument today? - Marie had brought him back a sandwich in wholegrain bread and James was less than happy. ‘Surely everyone knows I don’t like wholegrain, whole-wheat or whole anything else!’ She had offered to swap it with her own, but that had inflamed him even more. He had called her many things in his tirade - the kindest being that she was ‘incompetent and fucking useless.’ Marie had merely let him rant, flashing him a glance that in no uncertain terms let him know that she found his theatrics both tedious and childish, but remained silent. Sometime later: “Hey Marie,” called Nicky brightly. “Are you going to come and join us at that new bistro? We’ve all decided to go for something to eat, and would love for you to be a part of the fun.” “No thanks Nick,” she answered sweetly, pleased that he had thought to include her. “I’ve got plans for tonight; another time, perhaps?” She smiled broadly at him, grabbed her coat and bag, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and sashayed out of the office. James was eyeing her with suspicion, but she did her best to ignore him, and carried on walking. In truth she did have plans for that night - the same plans that she had practically every night - studying. Marie had enrolled on a home learning course to obtain a psychology degree and the research took a lot of her time. Once a month she would meet with her tutor, a nice personable lady called Gladys, to go through any difficulties that she was experiencing, and to have her essays and dissertations checked before they were sent to the scrutineers; other than that it was all done via the computer and books. During the week she tried hard to regulate herself to go to bed no later than 1am, but Friday night until Sunday evening, she would exist on a minimum amount of sleep. Her Sunday evening always followed the strict routine; bath at 9pm, bed at 10pm, so that she would be fairly refreshed for another arduous and unpredictable week at the offices. Thankfully Marie didn’t have to encounter James very often; these days they rarely needed to attend the Hall or Nothing Management offices, having Terri, Martin, Lyz and Chris running around after them instead. Unfortunately with a new c.d. in postproduction, the guys had been visiting the offices rather a lot as they tried to collate all the publicity and release dates; then there was the small matter of a tour - right across December! “Hell you guys crease me!” Marie had spluttered on hearing the news. “What’s wrong with it?” Sean had then asked, somewhat nonplussed. “Great, let’s see. Treacherous weather conditions for travelling; people will be freezing their bollocks off as they queue to see you, and they’ll no doubt be in debt up to here.” She had then raised a hand and indicated an imaginary line at eye level. “And for what? 90 minutes and no bloody encores you miserable sods. They must be mad.” “You,” accused James, “are just a sad git with no sense of adventure.” “If you call that adventure, I don’t want any!” With that parting shot across his bows, she had smugly waved goodbye and left, with a very jaunty bounce in her step. Strange how she often found herself walking out to leave after hitting James with a retort. At home her desk was a picture of organised chaos. Various books and papers strewn around; notes stuck to the computer to remind her of various searches that she needed to carry out; a cold half finished cup of coffee; an ashtray that was over flowing with cigarettes that had long since burnt themselves out rather than been smoked, and a very disagreeable looking tv dinner. It had begun life as ‘pasta with garlic mushrooms’ but was now an uninspiring grey congealed mess. Marie no longer noticed it, and was somehow able to work around it all. She heard the shrill ring of her mobile phone. Ok, where the hell had she put it? She scattered papers and overturned books in the hunt for the blasted thing, but then it abruptly stopped - the call had been diverted to her voicemail account. Against her better judgement she decided to check it to make sure that it wasn’t anything of any significant importance. ‘You have one message,’ relayed the irritating automatic voice, ‘message one’: “Marie I know that you’re in there because I can see that your lights are on, and I can see your shadow moving around. Let me in please.” ‘End of message.’ Marie replayed it, unsure that she had heard correctly, but then followed the persistent tapping on the windowpanes, letting her know that they were waiting. Reluctantly she padded off to answer the door, and let him in, knowing that keeping him out there waiting would eventually lead to her neighbours complaining. “James,” she said as she saw him, hoping that she sounded reasonably happy, “what on earth are you doing here?” Without waiting for an invitation, James stepped into the ground flour flat brandishing a bottle of white wine. A very large 1.5 litre bottle, at that. “I decided,” he said simply, taking in the chaos that made up the lounge, “that I missed you and wanted you around, but as you didn’t come with us, I decided to come and see you.” “As much as I appreciate the thought, you can see that I’m really busy.” Nervously Marie moved some of her books and papers, and then shrank the document she was working on, on the computer, in the hope that James wouldn’t see what she was doing. “Psychology? I had no idea,” he smiled. “I try to keep it quiet; only Martin and Terri know. They’re helping me with rearranging some of my schedule so I can concentrate on the exams and things.” “Why didn’t you let us know? We would have supported you, you know.” He put the bottle of wine down, emptied the ashtray into the waste paper basket beneath the desk, picked up the plate and the cup, and then walked through to the kitchen with them. He got rid of the indistinguishable mess into the bin, emptied the coffee down the sink, then took off his jacket and proceeded to run the hot water so he could wash the pots. James had been to Marie’s flat twice before; once when he had given her a lift home, and once when he had picked her up, to take her to a video shoot. On each occasion he had gone inside, but such a sight had never greeted him as now. “James you don’t have to clean my mess up for me you know,” said Marie, rather indignantly. “Perhaps not, but I want to. You have obviously got better things to think about,” he smiled, his brown eyes glinting in the glow from the light. His voice was compassionate, friendly and warm; those sexy eyes of his coming more and more to life. “How about you get the wine glasses out, then we can sit and have a nice chat when I’ve done this and made you something to eat.” It wasn’t very often that Marie was stunned into silence, but right then she couldn’t think of any suitable retort. There were times when you just didn’t cross James, and this was one of them, so like a dutiful little thing, Marie opened a cupboard door, took out a couple of glasses and put them on the side while she went to retrieve the bottle of wine. Surprisingly the wine was refreshingly chilled; she poured a glassful for both of them, and then placed the bottle into the fridge to keep nice and cold. James smiled, and with soapy hands took the stem of the glass and took a sip of the wine. She smiled back coyly. Leaving James to try and find something edible for her to eat she went and tidied up her desk, making sure tat she saved her work onto a disc, then shut down the computer, and sat down and took a drink of the wine - very nice. Eight-thirty and she was stopping for the night; it had been a long time since she had done that. “You’ll have to make do with cheese and tomato omelette,” James called above the clattering of pots and pans. “You really need to go shopping.” “I know, she called back, switching the c.d. player on. Jamie Cullum’s ‘Pointless Nostalgic’ was already in the drawer so she merely pressed play, and sat back down on her comfortable sofa, finding the sound of James beating eggs, strangely soothing. Shouldn’t she be a bit spooked by all of this? Possibly, but Marie was enjoying being pampered for once. It wasn’t long before James presented her with a steaming hot, perfectly cooked omelette. “If I have to come here every night to make sure you eat properly, I will,” he giggled jovially, handing her the meal and then joining her on the sofa, watching her with rapt fascination as she was tucking into the snack he prepared eagerly. “Umm, you have good taste in music.” “Thank you for cooking. It was generous of you,” she laughed after swallowing the last morsel of food. “Oh, and I know. That’s one of the reasons why your music doesn’t grab me; I have far stricter quality control standards than that!” James shook his head, rolled his eyes, then went and inspected her c.d. collection more closely. “So why is it that you have every c.d. that we’ve ever done, and -horror of bloody horrors - a few bootlegs?” he enquired after sometime. “Erm…” she stuttered. “The erm, official c.d.’s are signed ones that Martin gave me, and the others are well erm… curiosity and research.” “And this one?” he waved one in the air but she couldn’t make out what it was and James refused to tell her, so Marie carried her pots into the kitchen and left them in the sink, picked up the bottle of wine and took it into the lounge, where she joined him on the floor to see what he was so curious about. “What’s wrong with that? Marie moaned in fake horror. “As I recall you used to be a fan of The Bay City Rollers yourself, so don’t start taking the rise out of me.” She leant into him and playfully wagged a finger at him, pretending to chastise him for misbehaving. “Hmm,” was his simple response. “Nirvana? That’s a surprise. Oh boy, now THIS, I don’t believe.” “Why shouldn’t I have Patrick’s c.d.’s?” “No reason. I just didn’t expect it that’s all.” He flashed his beautiful smile and continued looking. “Just goes to prove that I do have taste,” Marie laughed, her green eyes sparkling like emeralds. Some strands of her shortish blonde hair flopped in front of her eyes, and she ran a hand through it to move it out of the way. Generally she had her hair all messy or spiked, but she had left it to dry naturally after having a shower, and it softened her features beautifully, and was wonderfully shiny. James watched it as it silkily slid through her fingers; he couldn’t help but wish that it was his fingers it was gliding through. Marie caught the way he was gazing at her. He had done it before and it was dangerous because she knew what it signified - he liked her; more than liked her. Part of the reason for their little spats was the unbearable sexual tension that crackled and sparked whenever they got together. Marie refused to give in to it; no way was she going to become another notch on his bedpost. Many times Martin had tried to explain to her that she really had the wrong idea about James, but Marie had always cut him off without listening to all that he was going to say. Her well-worn excuse whenever he tried to play matchmaker was; “I just don’t think it would be appropriate. I don’t believe in having personal relationships with people that I work with.” Still here she was, sat on the floor of her flat, a glass of wine in hand, enjoying some wonderfully relaxed repartee with James and feeling so at ease with him, that she was asking herself why they had never done this before. Of course she knew the answer to that already - because she couldn’t trust herself. Being at the office enabled her to conceal her emotions and project a professional, yet friendly front. Here at home she was unguarded, and his sex appeal and charisma were already affecting her. “Ah, now this!” he exclaimed. “What the hell…” “I like her ok?” “You LIKE Madonna? No kidding, you must have everything that she’s ever done. Sad, really sad.” “Excuse me,” protested Marie vehemently. “The really sad thing is you fawning over the poor man’s substitute - otherwise known as basted Kylie. Five years after Madonna does something - Kylie does it; very predictable.” “She’s cute.” “Just because she gets your dick to grow doesn’t mean that has any talent however.” “What did you just say?” gasped James, spluttering some of his wine. “Look at you; you’ve got images of fucking her running through that dirty mind of yours haven’t you? Just mention that name and there is a stirring in the Bradfield crotch.” She wasn’t angry with him, just enjoying some fun teasing him, and for his part James was enjoying it too. Not women would dare to be so brazen and to talk to him that way, but he thrived on it. “It’s no different to the way that you wet your knickers over Bono is it now? Remember that time you met them when you went to that awards thing - the one that Martin and Terri forced you to go to by threatening to sack you if you didn’t?” Marie nodded to him, her face pinking up, as she knew what he was going to say next. “I swear that you came when he shook your hand, and when he gave you that slow dance; judging from the expression on your face, it was orgasm overload.” He poured some more wine out for them both - strange, he couldn’t remember drinking the last one. “I have never hidden the fact that I consider him to be ‘sex on legs’. Yes he makes me go a bit slushy, but fantasies are exactly that.” “But he is your dream man,” probed James with a beaming grin. “ I mean if he asked you wouldn’t turn him down would you?” “Yes I would.” Again James almost choked on his wine. “Oh ye of little faith JD.” His eyes lit up when he heard her call him like that. She was the only one who did and he adored it. “ So, hypothetically speaking, what qualities are you looking for in your ideal man and, is there anyone that you really do fancy?” “I tell you mine and you tell me yours; fair’s fair as they say.” “No problem,” he answered sprightly. “In fact, I’ll start. My ideal woman has to have a good sense of humour; be loyal; be honest; be able to stand up for herself and not be intimidated by me; she has to be independent - I don’t like limpets! Like sport, want a family, you know, and yes, there is someone that I really, really do like a whole lot.” Their eyes locked; each daring the other to speak the words they desperately wanted to hear. Neither did. “Pretty much the same really,” Marie said thoughtfully. “I’d be no good for a man who wants a stay at home wife; I like working, studying and learning, and I want someone who can give me encouragement for that. Children would be lovely too, and yes, there is a certain someone out there, but that’s another dream; it ain’t going to happen.” Very briefly she flashed him a downcast glance, but then the smile returned to her mouth. “Don’t say that ‘cos you never know what might happen.” James opened another drawer on the c.d. unit. “Aww, how quaint and intrinsically girlie,” he laughed. “Dirty bloody Dancing.” “You’re just jealous that you don’t have Patrick Swayze’s gloriously sexy body or backside,” Marie smirked. She realised what she had said when James raised his eyebrows questioning at her. “Although I’m sure that yours are perfectly fine. Well, I erm, I mean that lots of women fantasize about you, so you MUST have something.” “You really ought to keep going,” suggested James, with a wry smile. “You were digging yourself rather a nice hole.” Something changed A seriousness hung over them, both watching and waiting; wanting so much but yet afraid of losing what was already there and precious. After a sharp intake of breath, James continued; “If you want the truth’ I love seeing you like this, all relaxed and happy, but then, I just love you.” “Oh.” “Oh?” “Oh.” “Care to expand?” he asked nervously? “ ‘Cos I’m kinda like, you know, flying blind here.” “Erm well, kinda, y’know, umm, well oh I, I’m erm flattered, kinda.” “In English?” She smiled. “Thank you. You’re kinda cute yourself, and I kinda like, do like you too.” “Why do I feel a ‘but’ coming on?” James shifted nervously, gulped down his glass of wine and ran his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I don’t see people I work with.” “You mean you don’t have relationships with them?” he requested for clarity, and she nodded. “That’s ok. In the offices I can be JD - that git from MSP, but when we’re together outside of the office, I can be JD the love of your life ok?” Inspite of herself, she giggled coyly at him. He truly was irresistible, especially with THAT smile and THOSE eyes, and without realising it, she was leaning into him. James took her glass from her and placed it, along with his own, on the coffee table that was behind him. “We need to stop fighting this,” he simpered. “It’s such a waste of energy, especially when we could be doing other things - like this…” They moaned in unison as their lips met for the first time, pressing their bodies together and gently sliding down to the floor. Things were going to be very different for them both from now on because they had each other. <<< Janey's stories |