One Foot Onto the Ice (10 page)

“Who is?” asked Amber, conscious of the attention Jenna was
heaping on Susan.

Susan struggled. “George Clooney?”

Amber laughed. “Every middle aged woman says George Clooney.”

Jenna jumped to Susan’s defence. “Oi, we’re the same age.”

“I know, it’s crazy isn’t it,” nodded Amber. She rose to her feet
and walked to the bar, reaching down for an empty bottle of beer. “Come on,
let’s liven this up. Truth or dare.” She moved back in her seat and laid the
bottle in the middle of the table on its side. “I’ll spin. Whoever it lands on
gets the choice.”

“Really, I couldn’t,” said Susan shaking her head.

Jenna shuffled her chair closer to Susan’s and bent her head to
look into her embarrassed eyes. “Would your performance as the snail have been
better if you’d tried that absinthe?”

Susan laughed. “It might have made it more memorable.”

“So live a little,” encouraged Jenna. “It’s only a bit of fun.”

Susan exhaled again and lifted her tankard. She took a long slow
sip and thought for a moment, imagining Amber was Andrea Akram and they were
all fifteen. What she’d have given to be part of their gang. She took another
sip of beer, aware that it could be a timely distraction from the stress caused
by Marcus. “Why not,” she announced, placing her tankard back down and spinning
the bottle. “But there’s no snogging.”

Jenna lifted her hands in apology. “Don’t worry. You’ve made it
perfectly clear that snogging women just isn’t your bag.”

“Anyone seen my holdall?” laughed Amber, peering around the empty
room.

****

Marcus jumped out of the shower, ran his fingers through his wet
hair and grabbed his hand towel. The knocking was getting louder. “One moment
my impatient little
mon amie
.” He pulled the old wicker chair from under
the dresser and angled it towards the door. He sat down quickly and dropped the
hand towel onto his lap. He glanced at the mirror on the dresser and was
thrilled with the reflection. Droplets of water were moving seductively down
his naked body. His hair was slicked back and two large glasses of deep red Burgundy
were waiting to be consumed. He looked down at the hand towel resting between
his legs and glanced back at himself in the mirror. “Go for it, you tiger,” he
said, lifting the hand towel up and hurling it across the room. “Come on in,”
he shouted. “I’m ready for you.” He watched as the handle moved down and the
door started to open. He lifted his hands behind his head and leaned back in
his chair, closing his eyes and moaning erotically. “I knew you’d succumb.”

“Can I borrow your phone please, Professor?”

Marcus jumped out of the seat and opened his eyes, wailing at the
pale girl standing in his room. “Daisy Button, get out!”

Daisy stood motionless, fixated by the thin dangly thing covered
in curly orange hairs. “You invited me in,” she whispered.

Marcus dropped onto the floor and clutched one hand between his
legs, using the other to shoo her away. “Not for this!” he shouted, as he crawled
on two knees and one elbow in the direction of the hand towel.

Daisy spotted the mobile phone on the dresser next to the two
glasses of wine. “If you let me use your phone then I won’t tell Madam Quinn.”

Marcus looked over his shoulder at the little girl. “Tell Madam
Quinn what?” he hissed, crossing a rough bit of carpet and losing his balance.

Daisy watched as Professor Ramsbottom rolled onto his side and
lost his grip on the thin thing which flopped down onto the carpet. She pointed.
“That.”

“Just take it!” he shouted, trying to pull himself back together.

****

The neck of the bottle swivelled to a stop in front of Jenna.
“Right,” said Susan, eager to ask the first question. “What did you really—”

Amber cut in. “You have to ask her if she wants truth or dare
first.”

“Oh, okay. Truth or dare?”

Jenna smiled. “Dare.”

“Oh, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Okay truth then.”

Amber shook her head. “You can’t tell someone what to pick.”

Jenna laughed. “No, I want a truth.”

Susan nodded. “Fine. What did you really think of me at school?”

Amber lifted her tankard. “I might go and join Marcus for some
Burgundy if this is as raunchy as it’s getting.”

“Hey, we always start off slow,” said Jenna, biting on her bottom
lip and carefully composing her answer. “Okay, I thought you were quietly
confident. I thought you were an intentional independent. One of those girls
who enjoyed their own company. One of those girls who’d rather be head in a
book than face in a crowd.” She nodded. “I thought you were a nice, normal,
highly intelligent classmate.”

“Were you good at sport?” asked Amber.

Susan flushed. “You’re far too kind, Jenna.” She turned her
attention to Amber. “But no, I wasn’t good at sport and I wasn’t as composed as
Jenna makes out. I was shy, spotty, and I had no friends.”

“You did,” said Jenna turning to Amber and narrowing her eyes,
hoping she’d pick up on her annoyance at the sport question. She turned back to
Susan. “You and Jennifer Grey were inseparable.”

“She was a mute. Remember? She didn’t speak until we were fourteen.”

Amber smirked. “What did she say when she finally spoke?”

Susan nodded remembering. “She said,
‘I’m not a mute
.’”     

Amber lifted the empty bottle and spun it with vigour. “Right,
moving on from the mind-blowingly mesmerising mute anecdote, can we please
liven it up a bit?” The bottle finally scraped to a stop in front of Jenna. “Right,
truth or dare?”

“Truth,” said Jenna again.

“No, you always pick dares.”

Jenna raised her eyebrows. “I thought you couldn’t tell someone
what to pick.”

“Fine,” said Amber, crossing her arms. “How many women have you
had sex with? What is your current running total?”

Jenna laughed. “You need to clarify the question. What do you call
sex?”

Susan fanned her face and glanced at the door. “Shall we lower our
voices a bit?”

Jenna leaned into the table and spoke quietly. “Sex with a man is
easy to count. It’s that dreadful bit where he pops his tiddler into your woo
woo.”

Amber leaned in as well and whispered sarcastically. “Why are you
talking like we’re three years old?”

“Fine,” said Jenna, leaning back and speaking normally. “Vaginal
penetration with the penis is what counts as sex between a man and a woman.”

“Please!” hushed Susan, now completely red faced.

Jenna leaned back in and smiled. “But would you say you’ve had sex
with a man if you give him a Thomas Tank or a Barry Jones?” She took a gulp of
beer. “He tickles your tuppy, does that count as sex?”

“You’ve lost me,” said Susan, swallowing some beer in an attempt
to cool herself down.

“Thomas Tank, wank. Barry Jones, blow job. Tickling your tuppy means
fingering your fanny. We were all doing it at fifteen, but our virginity was still
intact.” Jenna paused. “Well no, mine wasn’t at fifteen, but you know what I’m
getting at. What’s the one act with a woman that makes you classify it as sex?”

Amber shook her head slowly and grinned. “Just give us the
numbers. Let’s call orgasms when you’re naked with someone,
sex
, and let’s
call everything else,
experiences
.”

Jenna bit on her bottom lip and thought about it for a moment.
“Fine,” she said. “In your terms I guess I’ve had sex with about twenty-five
women and experiences with about fifty.”

Amber nodded. “Yes, it shows.”

Susan hid her face in her hands. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here
having this conversation with THE Jenna James.”

Jenna laughed. “Come on then, Susan, tell us about your past.”

Susan sighed. “It’s certainly not as exciting as yours.”

“Give us your numbers,” said Amber. “I’ve had ten men, one woman,”
she looked over at Jenna, “and I’m never going back.”

“Good,” laughed Jenna, “because you’re starting to make me feel a
bit uncomfortable.”

“To men!” snapped Amber.

Jenna took a long sip of beer, wiped her mouth and looked at her
pink-haired colleague. “You can’t have drunken sex once with a woman and
instantly change your orientation.”

 Amber narrowed her eyes teasingly. “You’re right, maybe we should
do it again just so I’m sure.”

Jenna turned to Susan, feeling she ought to explain. “Amber here’s
a serial husband hunter. She thought she’d bagged a good one last year. He was
a well-paid, fairly good looking banker. He came out to the slopes at
Christmas, February and Easter.”

Amber continued the story. “He came for the last week of the
season too,” she sighed, “with his wife.”

Susan shook her head. “And you’d been together?”

“We were inseparable.” Amber reached over and placed her hand on
top of Jenna’s. “Good job Jenna was here to soften the blow.”

Jenna pulled her hand away and spoke to Susan. “We were drunk. It
happened. I was comforting her. It was no big deal.”

Amber folded her arms and huffed. “It was to me. You showed me how
amazingly intense love making can be.” She quivered. “Mmmm, I still re-live the
way you touched me.” She slowed her voice. “Kissed me.”

Susan coughed lightly and pushed her chair back. “Right, well I
think I’ll leave you two to it.” She stood up to leave.

Jenna pulled on her hand. “No. We’re sorry. This must be
uncomfortable for you, being so straight and all. You still haven’t told us
about your men yet.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Jenna continued to tug on the hand. “Please. Just five more
minutes. I feel like we’re getting to know each other all over again. I missed
out at school. You’re such an intriguing woman.”

Susan frowned. “Why am I intriguing?”

“You just are. Now please, sit back down.”

Susan gave in and pulled herself back into the table. “There’s
nothing to tell. I kissed a boy once when I was on holiday with my parents. I
was seventeen. He ran off and told his friends that I didn’t know how to do it
properly.”

“Oh bless you.” Jenna was trying not to smile.

“It’s not funny. I’m awful at interaction.”

“You interact well with me,” smiled Jenna.

Susan paused. “Only because there’s no pressure. I’m fully aware
that I’m not your type.”

“How do you know?” smiled Jenna.

“Jenna, are you trying to flirt with Susan?” joked Amber, not
really joking at all.

“No, just getting her to loosen up.” She looked back at Susan.
“Come on. Who else has there been?”

“I dated a guy called Bill at University. It lasted for a few
months.”

“Did you screw him?” asked Amber.

Susan flushed. “We made love once or twice.” She shrugged. “Or we
tried to. It was difficult.”

“Why?” puzzled Amber.

Susan fanned her face. “No, I’m not comfortable talking about
things like this. I’m sorry, I’m heading up.”

Jenna scraped her chair towards Susan’s and took both of her
hands. “Stay, please. We’ll keep it light and upbeat.” She smiled. “Please. You
need to unwind from Marcus. Amber will pour us all another drink, won’t you,
Amber?”

Amber saluted her colleague and pushed back on her chair. “With
pleasure,” she said rather sulkily. “But I can’t believe I’ve just met a
twenty-six year old lady who’s only had attempted sex with one other human
being.” She walked behind the bar and reached up to the tankards on the top
shelf. “It’s not like you’re bad looking.”

Jenna lowered her voice and leaned into Susan. “You know why she’s
teasing you, don’t you?”

Susan felt her heart quicken at the close contact. “Why?”

“Because I like you. She feels put out.”

Susan couldn’t meet the exotic eyes. “You like me?”

“You’re complex. I like complex. I like finding the true person hidden
under all of the layers.” Jenna reached out to Susan’s chin for the high zip on
her lilac fleece.

Susan looked down at the fingers, but didn’t move. “What are you
doing?”

Jenna eased the zip down one notch. “Peeling off your first layer.
Addressing the issues you have with personal space.”

Susan couldn’t move. She was barely breathing. She whispered the
words. “I don’t have issues with personal space.”

Jenna slowly pulled the zip down another notch. “Yes you do.
You’ve already mentioned how tactile I am.” She let her fingers gently graze
Susan’s neck. “Tactile is friendly.”

Susan stammered. “Is this friendly?”

“Tell me how you feel,” said Jenna, pulling herself even closer.
“Be honest.”