Authors: H Ryder
A diversion is instantly needed, I send a text. Get phone out again quick.
TC: “Hey” it’s short, but I mean every word.
HC: “Sis? Aren’t you supposed to be partying?” What am I doing here?
TC: “Can’t dance, my dress is too big” true wafty-skirted story, but it is
gorgeous
.
HC: “Call you later, I have company” he’s such a dog.
My phone goes away again in my beautiful clutch. I feel sad at the distance between me and it.
James pops over briefly with another very attractive man following, tall, elegant, well dressed, pretty face and dark slicked back hair, I vaguely recognise him, but from where, I can't recall, I look at my glass, that'd be why then. “This is Steven, our brother Tharie, where's Danny?” He looks around, “never mind,” before I can attempt a suitable answer, “Steven, Tharie” he points for each one of us in turn with his glass of red. Pete is on the dance floor swirling around with Graham. She's an excellent net worker.
Steven is looking at me.
Stunningly attractive boy, raisin brown eyes and very dark hair, not like his brothers at all. Smartly dressed and I recognise him from his photos. “I just have to pop over and see Mum,” James says to Steven, but Steven isn't listening, he's staring at me. Steven is Graham’s child from another relationship, he has a twin sister that hardly ever gets mentioned, Vanessa, apparently she’s trouble, perhaps
we’d
get on? I look up at Steven, I do recognise him from the Kerrang channel. I wonder if he knows Henry?
“OK” he manages looking after the retreating form of his Brother, and at least has the decency to appear a little embarrassed.
“Tharie and I will dance then.” And he extends his hand to me in invitation, and without any preamble, I accept, I could do with a distraction, eyes follow us to the dance floor.
It's the dress of course.
After sweeping me in a grand gesture to the centre of the throng, through couples moving to the music, he holds me close to his body and we begin to dance, I enjoy being this close to another person, I feel alive. “Danny didn’t lie when he told us how beautiful you are Tharie,” a charmer. He spins me slowly on the dance floor, he looks at me seductively, “too bad he couldn’t make it tonight, but I’m not complaining.” He smiles at me, but I detect a hint of predatory in his eyes and alarms begin to ring in my head. I’m enjoying dancing, being close to someone, being enjoyed by someone, such is my level of misery and loss. But I feel stronger and I’m getting myself back aren’t I?
We move together to the soft music, swaying and swishing the hem of my magnificent gown. He whispers in my ear that he finds these family affairs quite dull. I hum an acknowledgement, I’d have to agree, and some rather unsatisfactorily dressed ladies here too. Don't these women
read
Vogue?
I can’t explain why, but just then I look up over Steven’s shoulder into the crowd, across the room, sensing the atmosphere has altered somehow.
And what I see stops me in my tracks.
Then the song ends, and people begin vacating the space.
Daniel is here.
The lights dim and the mirrored ball in the ceiling rotates, sprinkling the floor like tiny glittering raindrops, the tune is slow. He stands there looking incredible in his slim tuxedo, I can’t breathe, his eyes find me in a second, he looks directly at me, my chest is tight and it hurts. My feet refuse any direction from my brain and stop working.
“...can I get a cup of tea?” I almost manage to gargle to my partner.
Chapter fifty-one, Friday
:
22ndnovember2013, Daniel
Daniel. All I can think of is: I can't think.
He heads straight to me, I can’t detect the mood he is in, his face is a mask of control, He's in calm, not letting anything show.
Steven turns to see him approach, I am still trapped firmly in his grasp, “fuck!” He says under his breath, and I feel his grip loosening, he steps away from me and retreats saying nothing, and heads directly to the bar, I don’t see him again. I would have considered that rude, but my mind is not in the mood to consider anything right now.
The man I love is walking toward me, I love him, I’m even more certain about it now I see him. I'm in pain, I want to turn away but Daniel keeps coming, looking at me, my heart stops and my insides burn. I can't move even if I wanted to. I blame the shoes, Christian Louboutin’s, they’re very high. True bloody story.
He strides long purposeful strides, strong and athletic, a powerful man, bent and focused, and incredibly beautiful. He is getting looks from all sides and gasps of pleasure from the women, but he ignores every call on his attention and just keeps coming. Eyes only on me, burning into me.
I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t think.
Yes, it probably
is
too wet to cut the lawn.
I am hurt, and whimper out an “oh god.” under my breath, but I still can’t look away. He’d been with that woman, how can I forgive? But still, seeing Him moving toward me sets me on fire again, my nerves tingle with anticipation, I have missed him, my body yearns for his touch and I am once again at his mercy, physically and emotionally. He looks gorgeous, his chiselled squared features strong and masculine, his look is blazing into me, making me feel naked and possessed, and it is welcome, gloriously welcome to me, to all of me. I focus on him as he moves quickly toward me, he looks model-gorgeous, his shirt wings are short and skinny tie very skinny and shiny black. Jacket lapels satin, narrow and long with a single button, done up. He has a day’s shadow of stubble and his hair is slick and shiny, a neat roll not the usual floppy. He takes my breath away. Again.
Notice to all, with an entrance like that,
He
reads Vogue.
His face is slim, a little slimmer than the last time I saw him, a dimpled chin and hollow cheeks with high cheekbones, his lips are full and soft. His eyebrows are heavy and dark and his eyelashes are long. His eyes are clear intense green grey and sparkle with a calm confident sexual intensity it’s impossible not to read. He strides across to me in long powerful strides, his tux looks incredible on him and slicked hair make it impossible for him to play with, his hands are large and soft, the skull ring glinting in the low light. He smiles a crooked seductive smile and I am at his mercy already and he’s not even close enough to smell, Daniel smells incredible. His tux slim trousers are to his ankle and his sharp pointed Chelsea boots are long and polished.
At his waist is the McQueen skull belt I bought him, his tattoos are a shadow of greyed indigo and I am anxious as he closes the gap between us quickly so I can touch him finally. He is approached on his way from several directions, and hello's are directed at him, but as he answers all the calls on his time, his burning darkened eyes never once leave mine. He’s making it perfectly clear it’s me he’s heading to and nothing is going to stop him, a purposeful stride, he's close now.
He reaches me finally, bends down his eyes never leaving mine, I take him in, breathe him, and he gently grazes my upturned lips with his, and I cave into a black hole that is him, all consuming, I want him to consume me. Then he breaks away.
For a second or two Daniel just stands motionless arms at his sides a faraway expression but his eyes are burning into mine in their intensity, for a second his cruel look follows Steven through the crowd, then returns back to me, and my eyes alone, anger, passion, I see conflict and I feel power. At that moment nothing else matters, it’s just him and me in the whole world. And the dress of course.
Note to self, write a note of thanks to Vivienne, bloody hell that woman knows dresses.
“Come.” Is all he says quietly, taking my wrist and urging me to him, his rough handling sends shivers through me. I gather the enormous mille feux gossamer silk hems of my gown in one hand, my leather envelope clutch in another and I’m trying to move as elegantly as possible. Allowing myself to be completely taken by this man. No question, no debate, no hello even, he tells me, I obey, I can’t get enough of him, I’d do anything he asks me to. Yes, anything, even brush my hair, wear colour, ride dressage…wait a minute, maybe not that far, not
colour
.
My brain has stopped me so many times with its chattering warnings about men in the past, but it doesn’t question Daniel, not even a little whimper of a question, with him is the only time I am quiet up there, but the rest of me is restless. I am so wholly attracted by this man, everything about him is as if I’d designed him for myself. Transfixed by my captor I don’t even notice the few people who attempt to interrupt our swift journey through the throng of people. Smartly dressed men and beautifully gowned women champagne glasses chinking in the sparkly light, move aside at the sight of this handsome man leading me with purpose to the stairs, brows lifted and whispered murmurs.
His Mother watches the scene jaw slack as her girlfriends whisper to each other all looking our way, Jess is among the throng around Barbara Pearse, she must have slinked in without me noticing, did she come with Daniel? Either way she stares unblinking at me, I’d be uncomfortable if I wasn’t already attached to Daniel. And my dress is
much
nicer than hers, naturally, it’s a
Westwood.
“Daniel.” I say breathless and I follow behind him at an almost run to keep up, “I don’t want to fight with you.” I tell him in earnest, every part of my being, begging him silently to stop and talk to me, kiss me, hold me, let me know things between us can be good again. I can’t go through this again, I’m exhausted with worry and wonder, and I’m sure why.
I have forgotten what I’m like on my own, forgotten my own self, I have disappeared, I need him to make me better so I can remember, so I can feel again. To put my hand into the flame and it burn me, that’s what I need. The trick, so I’m told, is not minding that it hurts.
Daniel just pulls me harder, and I begin to wonder if this is the last time I’ll see him, if this is him breaking up with me, glad I have a great dress and high heels for a swishy theatrical exit. He yanks my arm and pulls me to another flight of stairs leading up and around a corner, a wide sweep and shallow step, thick blood red carpet under my Louboutin's. That's Christian Louboutin, for all those downstairs wearing ugly little pumps. Yuk, loads of money and very little taste! Buy Vogue, that's my tip.
I have to heave my dress skirt onto my arm to leave my legs free to climb the stairs, my legs are weak and I feel a tremble, I am outside myself looking down at this weak creature I don’t recognise, pale and thinner from not eating. I look away at myself in disgust, how could I let myself fall so hard for this man, what has he done to me?
Enter at C in working walk, down the centre line to X, halt and salute.
Any ground I gained speaking with Jess, completely lost now she is here. Around the corner, he stops and I have my back to the wall slumped against its hard surface. Silence, just a dark powerful glare, he is so close I can smell his hair and feel his hot breath on my face, I weaken at the sight of him, I can barely let out a sound “Daniel.” I try, but all I manage is a choked whisper, not sure what I would have said anyway.
Half-pass across the arena to H.
But before I can say anything Daniel lifts his hand to me, I flinch away from him in an instinctive defensive move, and a deep look of hurt fills his eyes, and he puts his finger gently across my lips to quiet me. “I’m
so
sorry,” I mumble through his attempt to stop me saying anything.
Ride a 20 metre circle at B, collected canter.
Dressage, I feel the need to explain, is like maths to me. When I need to focus, I do a tricky task in my head, some people do long division, some the square root of 76, me? Dressage. Does that explain it for now?
Bending down toward me I expect a light touch of his lips but he kisses me hard, breathing heavily into me, devouring me with his mouth. “I miss you baby,
please
” he breathes, “Please don’t leave me.” He hisses in whisper. Kissing again our tongues flicking in and out of each other’s mouths, engaged and enticing. All at once I am back in the world, I can remember what it’s like to feel. He kisses me, biting my lip, licking over my bottom lip and trailing hot kisses down my neck. “You are
everything
to me,” he breathes.
Taking my wrists firmly in both hands he raises them up above my head locking them there while his lips and tongue swallow me deeper still, he is fucking my mouth, our tongues sliding around each other’s in a frenzy, I can’t move, I don’t want to move, I’m at his mercy and I like it.
Tea?
As an addict, I crave and yearn, just the slightest touch of him, the smell of him satisfies a greater need inside me to consume him more, to be taken over and find myself again, because I have been lost. Finally I can take no more, and sobbing great heaving
lungful’s of air I slide down the wall to the floor between his legs, almost consumed by my Vivienne Westwood phenomenal black dress. The woman is a genius. I don't want to talk, I just want to kiss him, feel his body against mine, and swirl around like a princess in my beautiful dress,
who wouldn’t
? Good question. He crouches down beside me, shaking a thought away from his own mind for a second I see a deep hurting there, “I was sick with jealousy when I saw you Tharie,” he tries to keep his mask on but he's hurting and angry, “I saw you with my brother, you two looked intimate.” He looks sadly at me, “and it made me insane, I thought you'd run from me, that I’d lost you.” I just shake my head, men. True story.