Chapter Five: Angels
We both woke up on the sofa. Did I kiss her last night? Did I sleep with her last night? I don't think I did. Anyway. It's snowed during the night and the doors opened itself, bloody door. So I'm freezing.
"Morning, Mr. Rainey," she says. When did she wake up?
"Morning, Clementine."
"Snow! I love the snow!" So she drags me outside to play in the snow. It's kinda cool, she throws a huge snowball at me, so I scoop up some of the soft stuff and tuck it down the back of her tee shirt. And now she's mad. She's so cute when she's mad. Even so, I decide to run away. But, I don't get very far as she runs up behind me and pounces on me, tucking her legs up like in a piggy back and shoving snow in my face, I silently thanked the guy that told me I needed glasses. So now I can't see, and we're going slightly downhill and it's a bit uneven, so I trip and we both stumble to the ground, laying in the snow, which is ok if you're fully dressed, which I wasn't.
She is pretty. I look down at her, as we had fallen to the ground I landed on top of her, but she was laughing so she wasn't hurt. She is pretty. She leans up a little and plants a soft kiss on my cheek, quickly followed by snow. She scrambles up as I try and wipe it off of my face. I'll get her. She's running back towards the house so I follow, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a proper hug, and giving her a proper kiss.
"Shit. It's Friday. I'm meant to be at work!"
"Ahh. That's one of the privileges of being self employed and working from home. Call in sick," I suggest.
"With pneumonia," she giggles. She's cute when she laughs, and isn't planning a snowball attack, that deserves another kiss. This time, it's a much deeper kiss, she's pretty dominant in her kissing though, hey, where's my masculinity gone? Anyway, she wraps her arms around my neck, and for a moment, we just kiss in the snow, oblivious to everything else in the world, and then, it begins to snow again, how romantic. When she finally breaks away from the kiss, she leaps over the ever growing mounds of snow to the bottom of the garden, and writes her name in bold capitals in the snow, following suit, I write mine too.
"There's one more thing we haven't done," she says, and then pulls me to the ground, actually, she's pretty dominant in everything she does, not just kissing. This time, she's on top, but I don't think that's what she's got in mind, and she rolls off of me, waving her arms up and down in the snow creating a snow angel above her name. After we'd made a few angels we got up to go inside.
"Hmm, I don't really want get pneumonia." I lift her up bridal style and carry her over the threshold, and put her down on the sofa. "Can I use your phone."
"Sure." She lifts up the receiver. "Hey, Bonny. Nit's ne, Dementine, I got a really nad nold, and I won't be in today, I'm at nome, nin bed, wit a buge nile nof nissue's. So I nee you tonorrow." And she hung up.
"Have you ever considered being an actor?"
"No, am I good?" she asks.
"You're very good."
"Can I have a shower? I'm cold now," she asks.
"No," I say, in revenge for dragging me out into the snow. "You wanted to go in the snow, you knew it would be cold, you cannot take advantage of me like that Clementine." She makes puppy dog eyes at me. "Sure you can have a shower." She heads to the bathroom and I sit down by my laptop with a beer. I'm paying the literary agency, I might as well write, right? Otherwise I may as well keep my money. I open a new Word document, and think. I'm still thinking. I'm still thinking and playing with a slinky. I can't think, I close the laptop. Why can't I think?
:::Because you thinkin' of Clementine in the shower, Mr. Rainey.:::
(God not you again.)
:::Yes, Mr. Rainey, me again. And you know I'm right.:::
(Ok, Shooter, you're right, I am thinking of Clementine in the shower, will you please leave now?)
:::You haven't written in a while, Mr. Rainey. Have you written at all since she first stood on your doorstep, wanting your money?:::
(She didn't want my money, the literary agency wanted my money, and no, I haven't written since then. Writers block you know, it's probably your fault.) I switch the computer off and sit down on the couch.
:::My fault, Mr. Rainey? I don't think it's my fault.:::
(Shooter, are you just here to completely piss up my life with any decent woman who I happen to meet?)
:::Why no, Mr. Rainey. I'm beginnin' to like her too. I'll let you have your fun. :::
(You're very kind, Shooter. Goodbye.)
:::Goodbye.:::
"Mort?" Clementine shouts from the bathroom.
"Yeah?"
"Will you get me a towel?" Sure I'll get you a towel. I head into the bedroom and look in the closet, pulling out a big while towel. I knock on the bathroom door.
"It's unlocked!" she calls. She wants me to go in there, with the towel? Is she still in the shower? I'll just have to put my fears behind me, and go in. I open the bathroom door, it's very steamy inside and Clementine is still in the shower. She pulls the door to the side and holds an arm out.
"You want me to put it in your hand too?" I ask. The hand just points a finger and beckons me towards the shower. Obediently, I get closer to the shower and Clementine rears her head, and takes the towel.
"Thank you," she says, wrapping the towel around her and stepping out of the shower, her wet hair falls mattedly around her face, exposing patches of black and blue. "You are no longer needed, Mr. Rainey," she speaks with a posh accent.
"Right, I know when I'm not wanted," I reply, and turn to leave.
"Mr. Rainey?" she calls after me. I turn to look at her. "You are wanted." She slinks over to me and rests a hand on my shoulder. Oh, I'm wanted?
"But I'm not needed? You know, you're gonna have to think seriously about the signals you're giving off." Just before I let her lips make contact with mine, I scoop her off her feet and carry her into the kitchen, and out of the door. "Right, now you're the one not dressed lets see how you like it in the snow." I set her down on the edge of the wooden deck by the lake and walk back through the snow to the house. She adjusts her towel.
"Mr. Rainey, you can't just leave me here!" she shouts, moving her feet to keep them from getting cold on the icy deck. I know I can't leave you there, you're just too cute. But I can't go back for her, because she's already braved the snow on her bare feet and tackled me to the floor, and guess what, I'm on the bottom, getting very wet and very cold while she almost uses me as an island to keep her feet dry. The only good thing is, the towel won't stretch, and as she's straddled me she can't move much for fear of exposing herself. I run my hands up her thighs, and she lets go of the towel that is still wrapped and tucked around her to push me further back into the snow.
"Clementine? You're no snow angel."
A car pulls up in the drive and we both hurry to get up. A youngish man gets out of the car, probably in his mid twenties, dark hair, jeans and rock band hoodie.
"Johnny!" Clementine exclaims, holding the towel tightly round her, standing on the wooden porch. Who is this guy?
"Clementine? I thought you were pulling a sickie," he says. "You'll be doing overtime for this you know."
"Sure," she replies, moving her feet about on the deck. "Mort this is my boss, boss, Mort," she introduces.
"Hey," I say.
"How'd you know I was up here Johnny?" she asks, having come out of the house with some shoes on. Johnny shrugs.
"Educated guess," he says simply. "Well, I think I'll leave you two to do, whatever it was you were doing, before I came," he says, backing towards his car, starts it up, and drives away. Clementine starts to laugh.
We both woke up on the sofa. Did I kiss her last night? Did I sleep with her last night? I don't think I did. Anyway. It's snowed during the night and the doors opened itself, bloody door. So I'm freezing.
"Morning, Mr. Rainey," she says. When did she wake up?
"Morning, Clementine."
"Snow! I love the snow!" So she drags me outside to play in the snow. It's kinda cool, she throws a huge snowball at me, so I scoop up some of the soft stuff and tuck it down the back of her tee shirt. And now she's mad. She's so cute when she's mad. Even so, I decide to run away. But, I don't get very far as she runs up behind me and pounces on me, tucking her legs up like in a piggy back and shoving snow in my face, I silently thanked the guy that told me I needed glasses. So now I can't see, and we're going slightly downhill and it's a bit uneven, so I trip and we both stumble to the ground, laying in the snow, which is ok if you're fully dressed, which I wasn't.
She is pretty. I look down at her, as we had fallen to the ground I landed on top of her, but she was laughing so she wasn't hurt. She is pretty. She leans up a little and plants a soft kiss on my cheek, quickly followed by snow. She scrambles up as I try and wipe it off of my face. I'll get her. She's running back towards the house so I follow, grabbing her arm and pulling her into a proper hug, and giving her a proper kiss.
"Shit. It's Friday. I'm meant to be at work!"
"Ahh. That's one of the privileges of being self employed and working from home. Call in sick," I suggest.
"With pneumonia," she giggles. She's cute when she laughs, and isn't planning a snowball attack, that deserves another kiss. This time, it's a much deeper kiss, she's pretty dominant in her kissing though, hey, where's my masculinity gone? Anyway, she wraps her arms around my neck, and for a moment, we just kiss in the snow, oblivious to everything else in the world, and then, it begins to snow again, how romantic. When she finally breaks away from the kiss, she leaps over the ever growing mounds of snow to the bottom of the garden, and writes her name in bold capitals in the snow, following suit, I write mine too.
"There's one more thing we haven't done," she says, and then pulls me to the ground, actually, she's pretty dominant in everything she does, not just kissing. This time, she's on top, but I don't think that's what she's got in mind, and she rolls off of me, waving her arms up and down in the snow creating a snow angel above her name. After we'd made a few angels we got up to go inside.
"Hmm, I don't really want get pneumonia." I lift her up bridal style and carry her over the threshold, and put her down on the sofa. "Can I use your phone."
"Sure." She lifts up the receiver. "Hey, Bonny. Nit's ne, Dementine, I got a really nad nold, and I won't be in today, I'm at nome, nin bed, wit a buge nile nof nissue's. So I nee you tonorrow." And she hung up.
"Have you ever considered being an actor?"
"No, am I good?" she asks.
"You're very good."
"Can I have a shower? I'm cold now," she asks.
"No," I say, in revenge for dragging me out into the snow. "You wanted to go in the snow, you knew it would be cold, you cannot take advantage of me like that Clementine." She makes puppy dog eyes at me. "Sure you can have a shower." She heads to the bathroom and I sit down by my laptop with a beer. I'm paying the literary agency, I might as well write, right? Otherwise I may as well keep my money. I open a new Word document, and think. I'm still thinking. I'm still thinking and playing with a slinky. I can't think, I close the laptop. Why can't I think?
:::Because you thinkin' of Clementine in the shower, Mr. Rainey.:::
(God not you again.)
:::Yes, Mr. Rainey, me again. And you know I'm right.:::
(Ok, Shooter, you're right, I am thinking of Clementine in the shower, will you please leave now?)
:::You haven't written in a while, Mr. Rainey. Have you written at all since she first stood on your doorstep, wanting your money?:::
(She didn't want my money, the literary agency wanted my money, and no, I haven't written since then. Writers block you know, it's probably your fault.) I switch the computer off and sit down on the couch.
:::My fault, Mr. Rainey? I don't think it's my fault.:::
(Shooter, are you just here to completely piss up my life with any decent woman who I happen to meet?)
:::Why no, Mr. Rainey. I'm beginnin' to like her too. I'll let you have your fun. :::
(You're very kind, Shooter. Goodbye.)
:::Goodbye.:::
"Mort?" Clementine shouts from the bathroom.
"Yeah?"
"Will you get me a towel?" Sure I'll get you a towel. I head into the bedroom and look in the closet, pulling out a big while towel. I knock on the bathroom door.
"It's unlocked!" she calls. She wants me to go in there, with the towel? Is she still in the shower? I'll just have to put my fears behind me, and go in. I open the bathroom door, it's very steamy inside and Clementine is still in the shower. She pulls the door to the side and holds an arm out.
"You want me to put it in your hand too?" I ask. The hand just points a finger and beckons me towards the shower. Obediently, I get closer to the shower and Clementine rears her head, and takes the towel.
"Thank you," she says, wrapping the towel around her and stepping out of the shower, her wet hair falls mattedly around her face, exposing patches of black and blue. "You are no longer needed, Mr. Rainey," she speaks with a posh accent.
"Right, I know when I'm not wanted," I reply, and turn to leave.
"Mr. Rainey?" she calls after me. I turn to look at her. "You are wanted." She slinks over to me and rests a hand on my shoulder. Oh, I'm wanted?
"But I'm not needed? You know, you're gonna have to think seriously about the signals you're giving off." Just before I let her lips make contact with mine, I scoop her off her feet and carry her into the kitchen, and out of the door. "Right, now you're the one not dressed lets see how you like it in the snow." I set her down on the edge of the wooden deck by the lake and walk back through the snow to the house. She adjusts her towel.
"Mr. Rainey, you can't just leave me here!" she shouts, moving her feet to keep them from getting cold on the icy deck. I know I can't leave you there, you're just too cute. But I can't go back for her, because she's already braved the snow on her bare feet and tackled me to the floor, and guess what, I'm on the bottom, getting very wet and very cold while she almost uses me as an island to keep her feet dry. The only good thing is, the towel won't stretch, and as she's straddled me she can't move much for fear of exposing herself. I run my hands up her thighs, and she lets go of the towel that is still wrapped and tucked around her to push me further back into the snow.
"Clementine? You're no snow angel."
A car pulls up in the drive and we both hurry to get up. A youngish man gets out of the car, probably in his mid twenties, dark hair, jeans and rock band hoodie.
"Johnny!" Clementine exclaims, holding the towel tightly round her, standing on the wooden porch. Who is this guy?
"Clementine? I thought you were pulling a sickie," he says. "You'll be doing overtime for this you know."
"Sure," she replies, moving her feet about on the deck. "Mort this is my boss, boss, Mort," she introduces.
"Hey," I say.
"How'd you know I was up here Johnny?" she asks, having come out of the house with some shoes on. Johnny shrugs.
"Educated guess," he says simply. "Well, I think I'll leave you two to do, whatever it was you were doing, before I came," he says, backing towards his car, starts it up, and drives away. Clementine starts to laugh.