The Late Blossoming of Frankie Green (28 page)

‘There you go, you lovely, lovely… person, you.'

She breathed in his musky smell for the last time, trying to store a memory for when she found herself needing some courage and self-worth.

He was sighing now and she was too. Her arms were around his tight waist and he was stroking her back in a large circular motion.

‘I just want to say thanks,' she said, lifting her face so she could snuggle into his neck where his pulse boomed against her ear. ‘You've been wonderful. So good for me.'

‘No, I should be thanking you,' he said, rubbing her shoulder. ‘You've taught me a lot too, made me grow up.'

Frankie was moved: he didn't have to make a show of it but she was glad he had.

‘And you've done brilliantly. You don't need any more help. Don't worry about what we didn't do – you had it all along. You just had no confidence. Jason won't be able to resist…' His voice tailed off into a little cough.

‘Why did you call him a wanker that time?' she asked, seeing as he'd brought him up; it was a question that had been nagging away in her mind ever since he'd said it. Everyone loved Jason apart from him, it seemed.

‘Because,' he said, as he started to rock her slowly, ‘he was stupid enough to let you go. That's why.'

She was so affected by his confidence in her that Frankie gave him a squeeze – he hadn't been slagging off Jase all along, it had just been his way of trying to make her feel good.

‘Keep in touch, eh?' he said, holding her tight as they sealed their friendship.

‘Yes,' she replied, becoming aware of an ache growing: the one he'd helped her mine, which she couldn't stop. And didn't want to. This was the last time they'd be together and her body had been so used to reacting to him that it just seemed to do it of its own accord. Still the hug went on and now her cheek was on his; without bristles, it was even smoother than she'd imagined and she could feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he blinked.

‘I'll miss you,' he said, his hand on her neck.

‘Me too,' she said, feeling the muscles at work in his back. Her heart was racing, her groin thumping. The pleasure was spiralling up and down until it reached her toes and fingertips.

She wasn't sure who moved first. But suddenly their faces were inching back and their lips were on each other's skin; they were tilting, sliding, unable to stop their fall, their noses side by side, their mouths touching. Soft, plump lips, the warmth of his tongue, entwining with hers, setting off slow throbbing pulses all over her body. They fell to the sofa, melting in their own heat, and their hands began to explore, tugging at clothes in desperation. The soaring was starting, her need to blend into one was overwhelming. Their top halves now naked, his mouth began at her neck then kissed its way down. She had never felt such bliss as he outlined her breasts with his tongue. Her hands explored the expanse of his chest, the sinew of his lean, defined stomach. Touching his warm and smooth skin wasn't enough. She began to undress him, pulling at his jeans, unravelling him, her grip finding his cock as she began to stroke him. He groaned at her touch and then again as he felt her wet insides, his fingers hot from her lust. Their eyes never parted in their abandonment. This time there were no boundaries, no set guidelines and no full stops as they moulded into one. Frankie gasped as she received him whole, wanting him deeper and deeper, and his mouth hungrily sought hers. They moved to her rhythm, tenderly at first, then she set the pace with a confidence as her pelvis pushed into his, grinding towards ecstasy. Rolling waves were coming to her and she was thrown around underwater. She turned her back on the surface, only wanting to go down, down; her senses blurred, she was tasting him with her eyes and feeling his moans. Feverous, she was soaring, tumbling, gliding and riding as her orgasm lapped at her pointed toes.

She'd never been this close before. Steadier, stronger, she felt the tide crashing over her and he responded with an urgent strength, on her heels, sharing her glow. Then Frankie was possessed, trance-like, blinded, sucked under but still able to breathe in Floyd as a violent softness exploded – and kept exploding until the tremors took over completely when her cry became a blissed-out duet. Together they stilled; their heartbeats banging as pleasure trailed their veins, slowly subsiding, receding until the air held the magic like fireflies before it was extinguished and they were in darkness, silent and motionless.

Frankie's euphoria of finally experiencing an orgasm had settled into a serenity of fulfilment: this was what it had all been about. It had had nothing to do with position or pretence, she realized. She had let go – the fear of losing herself hadn't materialized. Instead, she had been empowered, but it hadn't been selfish or violently passionate, rather it was a resounding awakening. This simple act – in the missionary, no less – she had done on instinct without instruction or direction. But what was behind it? She knew the only way she could find out would be if she tried it with Jason.

‘Well, that was some goodbye,' Floyd said from up above. ‘I'm not sure I could do that every time I bid someone farewell. It'd be exhausting not to mention a bit too… nude.'

‘I know!' Frankie laughed. ‘To think that's what I've been missing out on all this time. And for you that's completely normal.'

Floyd pulled his face back and shook his head. ‘Er, no. I'm having a think but… nope, it was quite a bit more than that.'

He was very cute, saying that, but she didn't believe him, what with all of the hundreds and thousands of times he'd done it. ‘How the flip did that happen?' she said, asking a metaphorical question. Then she felt sheepish. ‘I didn't mean it to. I didn't force you, did I? After what you said on Saturday night.'

‘You have used and abused me, Frankie Green. For your own wicked, depraved ends… Nah. I wanted to. I could because I wasn't your teacher any more. Just Floyd. Named after Dad's favourite band Pink Floyd.'

The tension whooshed from her in a high-pitched squeak. ‘And I'm not your student. I'm just Frankie, after Dad's favourite singer Frank Sinatra,' she giggled.

‘I think it happened because it had to happen,' he said, now contemplative. Frankie knew exactly what he meant: weeks of build-up, it was like closure. An end to that period of her life.

‘And we had to do that before we could move on,' she said. ‘What with Sasha home tomorrow and Jason…'

‘Absolutely,' he said. They were both being very emphatic about this.

‘Um… Floyd…'

‘Yes?' he said quickly, his eyes searching hers.

‘There's something I have to tell you…'

His eyes bored in to hers now; he looked pensive for some reason. ‘What is it?' he said, quickly.

‘The thing is… I can't feel my legs now. You're a dead weight.' She snorted at her joke, feeling pleased she'd caught him out the way he had with her so many times.

‘Right, yes, of course,' he said, giving a weak smile as he moved to her side and reached for the sofa's throw, which was in all sorts of tangled trouble. Pulling her in to get comfy next to him, he said: ‘Isn't it funny, that after all these years, after what nearly happened at Debbie Yates' fifteenth, that we're here now, doing this.'

‘You remembered! I never thought you would!' she said, sitting up with shock before settling down again. ‘I was a bit teenage and confused, I think.'

‘Charming!' he laughed. ‘Course I remember. How could I forget the biggest Em bollocking of my life?'

‘I wonder why she was so cross? I mean, I get why she was grossed out but… we were just kids.'

‘She's very black and white. It didn't fit into her categorized perspective.'

Frankie nodded. That was Em all right.

‘Before all of this,' Frankie said, ‘I was a bit like that. Very certain about things. But now…'

‘It's called experience, Frankie,' Floyd said, ‘When you love someone, you love them for what they are, not what you think they are.'

‘Maybe that's why it all went wrong with Jason. He had been my knight in shining armour. I'd had such a rough time growing up that I had looked at him as my saviour. Not as my husband.'

‘And perhaps he saw you as helpless. So instead of discussing how he felt about the way things were going in your relationship, he bottled it up because he didn't want to put it on you. In his eyes, maybe, you were a glass princess. When in actual fact you have more balls than Manchester United.'

Floyd was bang on. If only Jason had spoken to her about it all. Yet she had been just as responsible in her own way for idolizing him rather than acting as his equal.

‘Yes! And knowing this, knowing our mistakes, means we'll have a stronger marriage.'

Her words were steady and clear because she was convinced she had grasped where things had gone wrong, and how she could fix it.

‘Do you ever doubt you're doing the right thing, wanting Jason back?' Floyd said, playing with her hair.

‘Of course not!' Frankie said, playfully slapping his chest. ‘Why else would I have put myself through all of this? I can do this, Floyd. I'm certain of it. I've changed. Why? Do you wonder about Sasha?'

‘No. Yeah. A bit. Just… I worry we're not the same people we were.'

Leonardo suddenly appeared on the back of the sofa then jumped down and stood with two paws on her lap and two paws on Floyd's.

‘Wow, he's quite choosy, he is.'

‘I'm touched,' he said, smoothing the cat until he settled into a tight ball between them.

Then, wrapped up in each other, they fell into a silence. But Frankie wasn't quiet inside. She was wondering if Jase would appreciate how she had grown. He'd wanted some excitement, that's why he'd suggested the separation. Well, what wouldn't he like about the new her? She was more adventurous in every single way now, not just in bed. Not exactly Bear Grylls, but you know… And he was bound to have had a journey too. An excitement grew as she considered what she'd find changed in him. All the good bits would still be there, but what would she see different about him? Perhaps he'd be more open to discussing things rather than hiding his thoughts as before. She could see now they had fallen into the habit of not communicating.

Unlike Mr Snoreypants here, she smiled. If she could just move Leonardo, she could get up… but Floyd looked so still. What was the harm of just lying here for a bit until he woke up to go?

Staring at the moon, she decided to enjoy the company; it's not as though this would ever happen again.

‘Oh my GOD!' Letty said, closing her eyes as her head rolled back. ‘That's heavenly.'

‘Let me try!' Frankie demanded, swiping the cup off her for a swig. The effort rocked her momentarily on the edge of the worktop on which they were sat, but Frankie just about saved herself from a fall and gasped with laughter.

Letty licked the green foam off her top lip and watched her friend with curiosity. Did she seem brighter than normal? It was hard to remember when Frankie last seemed so alive. But that could be because Letty's mind was an unmerry-go-round of niggles about work, her massive overdraft and Lance's depression after he'd dropped Eddy back to Helen's, which were increasingly keeping her awake at night. Frankie was pissed, that was all.

They were having a ball of an early evening – a trim from Frankie had turned into an impromptu drinking sesh, which they hadn't done for yonks. It was just what Letty needed; everything had been so sensible of late. They were on their fourth cocktail, made with Lance's beloved NutriBullet. It was lucky he was at work because he'd never approve of boozy smoothies; his body was a bloody temple. She didn't mind but, come on, everyone had to have a blowout now and again.

Their first creation had been virgin, but then, with naughty giggles, they'd splashed rum, gin and Bacardi into combinations of blueberries, spinach, beetroot, banana, ice and berries.

‘This one,' Letty explained as Frankie knocked it back, ‘I've called the Vitamin V, which is kale, apple, mint, cucumber and a shitload of vodka. I tell you, babes, it's a liquid orgasm!'

‘It's good,' Frankie said, her eyes glassy, ‘but… not that good.'

Letty drew a breath until she saw Frankie doing comedy eyebrows, waggling them up and down in a sign she had news. ‘You haven't! Have you?' Letty shouted with glee.

‘I have!' Frankie grinned back.

‘No. Way. When?'

‘Last night!'

Letty stared at her friend. Frankie wasn't covering her face or blushing. She was slapping her thighs and laughing. Frankie had had her first ever orgasm and she was still on a high. The irony didn't escape Letty's attention: she was supposed to be the siren but she'd had not a squeak of action since before Eddy's visit. She sympathised with Lance's misery over not seeing Eddy every day – she'd seen how much he adored his son, it was a love that rivalled no other, as it should be. As her father should've felt about her. But it had taken him away from her: he was withdrawn and anxious, monotone and unresponsive. When she tried to speak their language, the reassurance of being desired and paying homage to each other's bodies, it fell on deaf ears.

‘With your sex teacher?'

Frankie nodded with a beam that lit up her entire body. ‘I'm a newly qualified sex kitten!' she said.

‘Well, hallelujah, babes!' Letty was chuffed to bits for Frankie. Not that she didn't think she had it in her, but that it would be buried so deep, she'd have needed a lot to find it. Like a JCB rather than a few lessons. She'd followed Frankie's progress from the beginning and it had increasingly looked like Frankie wasn't even going to do the deed because the guy was too much of a gent. That or he had some major issues going on. ‘Come on then, tell me!'