what am I going to do with you?
Mascara helped. And a carefully mussed-up ponytail that took ages to perfect completed the look. She sat there a while longer than she needed. She felt displaced all of a sudden – as if dates were hugely adventurous even risky pursuits undertaken by other more qualified people. She thought of Em. And tried not to. She thought of Wolf and tried not to. She didn't let herself think of Joe. She said out loud that she would borrow Lisa's sure-fire lipstick, if the offer still stood. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, you look stupid, you don't look like you. But then she heard Lisa hiss from downstairs that Tess was late, to get a move on or risk being stood up.
She was late but he didn't stand her up. He was waiting for her at the specific paving stone and he took her to the pub at the bottom of Saltburn Bank. It used to be a dive, Lisa had told her. Minging, she said. But now it was the place to go, all fancy decked verandas speckled with little bright blue halogen lights, woodwork painted in New England colours. Lisa had told her, you don't go to the bog there any more – they've restrooms now with polished granite and all. It had a commanding position too, with 360-degree views and an interrupted vista out to sea, hence its new name, the Vista Mar. Tess had never seen it by night. Swish for Saltburn. Then she thought, she hadn't really seen Saltburn by night either – only when passing through by car on the way to the Transporter Bridge.
Stop it! This night has nothing to do with Joe.
‘Loving your hair,’ Seb said. ‘What are you drinking?’
‘Wine, I think.’
Eye contact, Tess, eye contact.
They stayed until last orders. Somehow, she managed to elicit plenty of details about Seb's life without revealing too many of her own. Tess's grandmother always said she was a good listener, for Tess though it usefully precluded too much personal exposure on her part. Her grandmother would have deemed him easy on the eye and Tess would have agreed with her on that one. He was easy to listen to as well, especially on account of his accent. She still had no desire to surf by the end of the evening but his adventures on the waves were entertaining in their own right, as were his tales of Australia and his relatives’ acres in Cornwall. Two ex-girlfriends of any note, one or two rebound flings, a couple of good-time girls this last year. Nothing serious. How about you, Tess?
‘Oh, my family live abroad.’
‘Do you visit?’
‘We're not close, really.’
‘And work?’
‘I'm house-sitting at the moment.’
‘Taking a breather?’
‘I suppose so. Though I find it very satisfying. But I needed a change of scene.’
‘Wise. And men? If you don't mind me asking?’
‘You are nosy, aren't you? Nothing very juicy for you – no one special, really. The teenage sweetheart who was eventually more like a brother. The college boyfriend who I graduated on from once I'd graduated. One one-night stand which was one too many. Em's father, of course – but I wouldn't know how to begin to describe him.’
‘A wanker?’
‘Seb!’
‘Special?’
‘Unique is probably a fairer word.’
‘How so?’
‘He's a free spirit. He's in the wrong decade – he needs San Francisco at the height of hippydom.’
‘Shirks his responsibility, does he?’
‘Not intentionally.’
‘Sorry – tell me to shut up if I'm prying and we'll talk about the weather.’
‘Let's talk about the weather, then.’
‘You don't want to talk about him, do you?’
‘Well –’
‘Do you know how I can tell? It's because you've gone a bit twitchy – here, on your lips, just here.’ Seb's fingertip stayed against Tess's mouth and his eyes bore through hers.
‘Shall we go?’
‘Go where?’
‘Back to mine?’
Her mouth was twitching again, she could sense it.
‘There's a bottle of white in the fridge,’ he said as if surely that could seal the deal.
‘I mustn't be too late.’
‘Just a glass of vino back at mine, Tess, not a pyjama party.’
A compact, modern, second-floor apartment on the other side of town.
‘Furniture isn't mine.’
She didn't think it was.
‘It's all in with the rent. Not bad really.’
Bathroom could be cleaner. Yesterday's paper open on the sofa. An odd shoe, kicked off in front of the TV set. Washing-up to be done. The housekeeper in her thought, he could make more of an effort. The girl in her said, he's a boy! give him a break! so what if there's a lads’ mag peeping out from under that chair and a Little Britain DVD out of its case on top of the speaker? Then she thought, that's an unopened bottle of wine and it isn't plonk. She rather thought he'd put it in the fridge with a wink and a wish before he came out tonight. She told herself, you're on a date, he asked you and in his own sweet way, he's planned for the evening to unfold.
‘It's nothing like your place,’ Seb was saying, motioning her to the sofa while he set two glasses of wine on the coffee table, ‘but it's home.’
‘It's not my place,’ Tess said, because she didn't want to be distracted by thoughts of that beautiful old building, of Em and Lisa and Wolf. Joe. She needed to concentrate on the veneer coffee table and the very white mantelpiece that surrounded no fireplace, only a slab of marble. This was her, here and now, and if she didn't make the most of it, what would have been the point of Lisa's skirt and Tess's sheaves of notes and the lipstick and the hairdo and finally, finally, making it out all on her own. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
They sipped self-consciously and Tess glanced around for a clock.
‘I mustn't be late.’
‘You won't be. It's only a ten-minute walk.’
‘Fifteen after all the wine I've consumed!’
‘You drunken slag,’ Seb teased and it made Tess giggle which made Seb think, now's my chance and he put their wineglasses down and reached for her. His mouth found hers and his hands honed in on what they'd fancied all evening long. Tess liked the way he kissed, the way he sucked her lips, she liked the taste of another tongue and the way it rudely probed her mouth as if asking personal questions. The feeling of her breasts being fondled was tantalizing and she found herself thinking, you can use your mouth, Seb, if you want to. He took her hand and led it down to the bulge in his trousers and though initially he had to grip her wrist and move it for her, when he let go she continued. The reality of a stiff cock was suddenly exciting to her and she felt her hips starting to gyrate instinctively. His hands were travelling up her thighs, politely spending non-focused attention there before surreptitiously working her tights down.
‘Oh, for fuck's sake,’ he said, laughing, as he hoicked her legs akimbo and peeled her tights away. Suddenly, he was pressing his mouth against the gusset of her pants and inhaling ravenously. Tess felt strangely paralysed, her body saying, yes please, more; her head saying, you really should be going now. It was like reading a book at bedtime, looking ahead for a convenient place to fold the corner of a page and call it a night. But, just like an easy read, she kept passing over line breaks and full stops for others further on. One more kiss, then I'll go. Actually, I'll just take my bra off – just for a minute or two. But actually, he's fingering around inside my knickers and – God, that feels good. Perhaps it would