Chapter 10

John didn't know what he had done to deserve this. Had karma finally swung his way or was he suddenly luck's target for the evening? Whatever it was, he had to check he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating moments before death. Incredulously, it seemed he was alive. They had parked outside in their usual spot of his apartment, the moon casting it's light and creating shadows dancing along both of their faces. They were both laughing, making their way into the building. John opened the door, almost missing the waiting envelope on the floor. Clara stepped over it, turning to him.

'Do you think it's-'

'Yeah, it is but it's going to be a rejection.'

'You don't know that.'

'Yes, I do, Clara not one letter out of the twenty-five I've sent have agreed to publish my book, there is no way.' He watched the ominous envelope on the floor, mocking him. Gingerly, he picked it up, expecting nothing but an apology letter. Clara stood beside him as he unfurled it and started reading. His eyes widened, his heart stopped. Clara looked at him, his shocked, pale face and her own widened into an equally stunned expression.

'John,' she said, shaking his shoulder, his ears only half hearing her, 'you did it.'

Her words finally struck the chord within him, yet still all he could do was stare. He was speechless. The official and signed lettering told him they were interested in his manuscript and would like to meet him personally to talk further about his book. He blinked, his mind trying to see through what he thought he read to the usual disappointment. Yet he couldn't. There it was, in print. He could hardly believe it. Clara tried to get him to respond, but in that moment he felt such exultance and pride that he threw the letter to the ground and jumped in the air excitedly. He never thought he could feel this happy but as he dropped to the floor he covered his face unbelievably, trying to make sense of what was happening. Clara knelt beside, shaking him, repeating what he already knew. His head raised to look at her, still astonished by what had happened. She kissed his cheek, ruffling his hair.

'I can't believe you're getting your book published! After all that time, it's finally happened, John.'

He laughed disbelievingly, his whole body shaking. He had awaited this moment for years and it finally came. It was so much better to have Clara there too, encouraging him, praising him like she never had before. He managed to stand, picking up the letter and shaking his head in awe.

'We need to celebrate. I'm getting some wine.'

John didn't object, even though Clara was still technically in the process of healing he needed a drink before his heart burst. Retrieving two glasses she poured both of them some wine. John collapsed on the sofa, Clara lighting up his cigarette for him.

'I can't believe it! I'm so happy for you.'

'I don't quite know what to say, to be honest. I'm mostly speechless.'

'I'd imagine so. Your own book is getting published!'

'I never thought I'd get anywhere. I hoped, but I never thought.'

'Well, you put a lot of effort into it. Kept sending your book again and again to as many publishing houses as you can. All the other ones are foolish for turning you down.'

'You haven't even read it, to you it's probably crap.'

'John, stop putting yourself down! Someone out there liked it.'

He turned to her, changing subject.

'It feels weird of you calling me John.'

'Aren't we supposed to be talking about your success? They want to meet you and everything-'

'Will you come with me?' He interjected, 'to meet these people. I'd really appreciate if you were there, you'd probably calm me down.'

She looked straight through to his pupils, and that intense a gaze was hard to ignore.

'Yes, I will.'

She reached over him to grab his box of roll ups, but he caught her.

'No smoking, Clara.'

'Come on, I've been dying for one. You keep teasing me whenever you light one up you son of a bitch, I'm having one now, especially as there is good reason to.'

'I don't want you ruining your health as well as your physical state.'

'Relax boy, it's not weed. I'll settle for a normal one.'

He sighed, but didn't say anything more. She leant back on the sofa as she took a drag, observing his uptight posture which was rather out of place given the news.

'How do you feel?'

She asked, blowing the smoke in his direction to attract his attention.

'I don't really know how I feel. I don't think I've considered how big a change it might make my life.' He said, turning to face her.

'It could,' she inhaled, 'you just don't look happy about it.'

'Oh Clara, you have no idea how happy I am. Oh god, it has just hit me. Clara, I've just realised-'

He leaned back, his breathing erratic, his face twisted into the widest smile she had ever seen.

'Jesus, don't have a heart attack. I think I actually prefer you silent and brooding.'

He downed the rest of his wine and inhaled smoke, the grin never fading. It was finally sinking in, he was finally feeling the effect of the alcohol and cigarette go straight to his head. He couldn't describe how ecstatic he was.

'I'm really happy for you. I don't think I've ever felt this happy for anyone else.'

'I'm touched.'

'Don't you dare.'

He grinned. 'I bet you love it really.'

She shook her head.

He observed her fully, how beautiful she looked in that dress, her flawless legs tucked beneath her, her whole face glowing, calling out to him. He studied her for a long time, before her eyes met his again. He didn't know who leaned in first, but suddenly her lips crashed into his and they were kissing furiously, tongues grappling for dominance, in which he of course let her take lead. He was afraid she would withdraw as she had before, tell him it was a mistake and that they were just friends. Yet she didn't, and the fusion of both their lips together was like fire itself striking both of them. Right then he didn't care about his book, he didn't care about anything else, it was only Clara Oswald right there kissing him, and she leaned against him, lowering him down into the sofa. She classily reached over his head to the ashtray on the table next to the couch, her hands now massaging his cheeks. He also tried to place his wine down gently, yet ended up spilling it. She laughed against his mouth.

'You spilled it.'

His hand came to rest on her back, and then she grinded into him, making him moan and all his focus lost. He allowed himself to melt underneath her, prey to her touch.

'I thought you said I wasn't your type.' He breathed, barely holding himself together.

'Shut up.' She murmured, pressing harder against his crotch and her kissing becoming wilder.

He was in the most excruciating pleasure when she left him lying there and he couldn't feel her sweet lips on his. He made a sound of annoyance, at which she pulled him up from the couch. Her eyes dazzling enticingly he stepped into her and kissed her again, longing for her tongue to glide over his mouth like she had done previously. He knew he was being eager, but couldn't help it. An amazing and beautiful woman like Clara couldn't receive a lesser response. He caught her lips with his and she silently undid his buttons one-handed, while the other guided his own round her waist. She was a natural, no doubt about it. With all the practice she had gained there was no questioning, he knew that he was in for the best he had ever had. She had seduced him with just a click of her fingers, and now he was wrapped up in her touch and wondering if there really was a heaven out there that was better than this. His chest now exposed her fingertips danced over him, which made him shiver. He was still trying to hold on, keep track of everything that was happening all at once as he kept kissing her repetitively. She spun him around, taking hold of his shirt and pulling him forward, toward his bedroom. He leaned even further into her as she tugged him through the door and allowed him to push her onto the bed. Climbing atop her he ran his hands over her body and everywhere he could reach. She violently discarded him of his shirt and tossed it away, with so much force it made him gasp. She yanked him closer to her so there wasn't an inch of space between them.

'Clara,' he whispered breathlessly, 'I don't want to hurt you anymore, you're still healing. Your head, your limbs-'

'Shut the fuck up.' she demanded, rolling him onto his back and taking control like with everything she did, yet to this she applied so much more power to make him do whatever she wanted. She was a very influential woman and that excited him. She reached down between his thighs, palming him through his trousers and making his head spin. She leaned down on him, almost making him vanish into the duvet. She finally pulled down his trousers, moving down on his body and making him moan helplessly. She took off her dress, watching him stare at her as she threw it to the grits and locked lips with him once again. Clara took the last offending piece of clothing from him and sunk down on his now hard cock, making him elicit a groan she smiled wickedly at. She rocked against him, sliding up and down his length faster and faster and letting his hands run through her hair. He exclaimed her name aloud as he came, and she collapsed on top of him, managing a slow, open-mouthed kiss that exhilarated the both of them. John was grinning widely, still panting but looking up at her with sparkling eyes.

'Tell me that was the best you ever had.' She said against him, kissing the sensitive part of his neck.

'That was definitely the best I ever had.' He agreed shockingly, still overwhelmed from the sensation tingling through his body and leaving a trace of longing behind. She was absolutely perfect. She smiled satisfactorily, and then her hand guided his to her breasts and he mercilessly massaged them copiously. She nodded at him, still grinning seductively until he grinned back at her, and then rolled over so he was now on top, pinning her to the bed and allowing her legs to wrap round his waist. He held her for the first time in his life carnally; as could be said of his kiss. He entered her in a rough and sweet pleasure that nearly took his breath away once again. Clara always liked to dominate, but something told him she was rather enjoying a male counterpart just as eagerly dominant. She threaded her fingers through his floppy hair and their hips aligned to meet each other's thrusts. Her head rolled back sexily and everything about that moment seemed to slow down, freeze, like he was imprinting it into his mind. He looked down at her adoringly and it was a wave of emotion that took him, although still lost in throes of passion he could see her clearly now; like his eyes were suddenly wide open to take all of her in, in the most vibrant and vivid colours, her skin seeming to shine incandescently, her lips an invitingly fire red, her bronze skin contrasting beautifully. His palm stroked her smooth cheeks, marvelling at her soft, flowing hair that framed her face like a waterfall. It glimmered different shades and tones to him, and he saw a plethora of colours all over her body. He smiled. He knew she was different, adventurous, thrilling to be with, a risk taker. He finally concluded that he was seeing her soul, a myriad of colour where everyone else's was so much more boring.

There was something almost tender about the way she kissed him then, something purer than just desire. But he was only caught in it for a moment, and then Clara decided to overrule him, take back her usual control which he didn't mind a bit. It was a privilege if someone as bossy as Clara was taking lead in the bedroom; and much more of a privilege when he realised just how lucky he was that she was there with him. The night may have grown older and darker as a new dawn began, but John wasn't too concerned for that as he contently kissed a trail up her neck to her jaw and finally to those enticing lips. Oh, what a night it had been.