Hey there SJ. I hope you are enjoying your freedom xx
25. Learning Curve
Effy
On dit qu'arrêter d'apprendre c'est arrêter de vivre. To believe you know it all is perhaps a little death in itself, I think. Back in my allegedly cool youth, people used to say I looked at them as if I knew every secret in the universe. I used to play along cause it got me shags, but I knew the mask was concealing a screaming, howling confusion that tormented my every waking hour. Conversely, I have learnt a hell of a lot in the last month, and I have never felt more alive. Firstly I have learned that what I have is real. My condition is not going to disappear, however happy I might be. It helps, of course it fucking helps, but I remain vulnerable. It can be triggered at any time, and not necessarily by anything tangible. Katie was racked by guilt that my last little episode kicked off because she ran out on me for a few days, but despite whatever might have come out of my mouth when I was under the influence, I knew that Katie had her own shit to deal with, and in the end I was profoundly grateful that she had chosen me to love, especially considering the extreme hotness of the competition.
The second thing I learned was that there are better medications than vodka and cocaine. And that accepting medication into my life doesn't make me any less of a person. I've finally come to accept the hypocrisy of refusing any kind of formalised help, whilst happily dosing myself to the point of toxicity. I talked to a doctor and I've got some pills now, des petites doses de magie chimique qui gardent les ténèbres à distance. Maybe they'll work, maybe they won't. I guess only time will tell. The one thing I know for sure is that I won't get trapped in a cycle of addictive medication with no-one to watch my back because, as Katie continually assures me, she's 'not going to let some creepy assed quack push me around'. As it happens my doctor is lovely, and explained all my choices properly before I committed to anything. Like I said, only time will tell as to their effectiveness, but I feel pretty good right now.
Of course that could have something to do with lesson number three. Being with someone who is prepared to confront my illness head on, instead of trying to smother it is exhilarating. I'm still ambivalent about the pills, and very cautious about their effect on my creativity. Surely to be an artist, is to be a little bit crazy by definition, the trick is to be able to manage it, to harness all those forces, good and bad and release them into your work. But the one thing that I am absolutely certain of is Katie. She may not want to officially live at the barn yet, and I don't blame her for that, but she is here more often than she is not, and every time I wake up next to that exquisite landscape of curves, I know it's going to be a better day. She doesn't try to hide the elephant in the room, she dons a showgirl costume and fucking rides around on it. She finds out what I need and she makes sure everyone knows about it.
Those first few days were hard. I was still fighting my way through the quicksand, and I wouldn't even let her kiss me. Je ne voulais pas qu'elle fasse l'amour à un fantôme. I shuddered at the memory of how many times I had let Freddie touch me even though I was barely there, and I was determined never to put her through that. She would fucking notice for one thing. But slowly, she drew me out of my shell and I felt myself coming back to life. She never rushed me or pushed me, although she wouldn't refrain from encouraging me to try a little harder if she thought I could take it. She ordered the boys around, getting them to do everything they could to support me, and to be honest I think they secretly enjoyed it. She and Cook even took a show out without me. It was a simple show, but I let Cook do the majority of the design, sitting in my pyjamas on the sofa and helping him with the programming. You should have seen him when they got back, the excitement practically etched onto his face in glowing neon letters. He made me laugh as he danced around the room throwing vodka down his neck. I knew how he felt, I had been there. The thrill of firing burning through my veins. Cook was way too high to give me a decent account of the show, but the proud smile on Katie's face told me everything I needed to know.
I saw him whispering in her ear, and she nodded and gave his arm a squeeze. He pulled a bag of powder out of the inside pocket of his jacket, and grabbed the mirror from the bookshelf. I smiled again, enjoying the fact that everything now had to be submitted to Katie's approval around me. Not that I was immune myself.
"Do you think I should?" I asked her quietly, as I watched Cook racking out some lines of coke.
"Effy honey, you know your own body better than anyone," she told me. "What do you think?"
I think I fucking love you more than anything on this earth, that's what I think.
"I want to," I admitted.
"For fun, or because you've got bad brains?" she asked me.
It was the first time I'd ever taken the time to think about it instead of just taking whatever was on offer whenever I could. It was an interesting revelation.
"For fun," I said, and it wasn't a lie. "I want to celebrate Cook's victory."
"Then go for it, sweetie," she replied. "I've got your back."
And fun was had. We got trashed, danced around to songs, talked a bunch of crap, and ended up engaged in some fantastically incompetent competition on the Wii at about five in the morning. I don't think I had laughed as much in one evening in my entire life. It was a glorious release of tension and an explosion of positive energy, and all of us had a blast. At least me, Katie, Thomas and Cook did. Freddie was there but he spent most of his time scowling in the corner, and I wondered if he would ever get over it. Katie had replaced him, not only as my lover but as my primary carer, and now Cook's star was rising too. At Katie's instigation I had chosen Cook over him to front the gig, and there is only so much the delicate male ego can take. But far from being the Yoko Ono of the group he had imagined her to be, Katie got on fine with the other lads and there was a sense that his influence in the business was waning too, that we'd be able to carry on fine without him.
It wasn't true. We still needed him. I still needed him. I might be the brains behind the operation, Cook the heart, and Thomas its soul, But Freddie's was the face through which we communicated with the world. Much as though I wanted to throw caution to the winds and plunge headlong into my relationship with her without a second thought, Katie had been right to take things seriously. A lesser person would have done anything she could to get her rival out of the way, but she had recognised his importance to all of us and tried her best not to piss him off. But she could do nothing about the way I looked at her when she danced, or the way his eyes clouded with darkness when he caught me doing it. Je ne voulais pas le perdre mais, maintenant que j'avais goûté au bonheur, je ne voulais pas perdre ça non plus.
I don't remember getting to bed that night, but I do remember waking up with my lover the following day. The sun was streaming in through the skylights in my room, so it must have been some time in the afternoon. The rays were dancing across her precious skin, making it glow the colour of honey. Her deep brown eyes were already upon me as I blinked myself back into consciousness, and she was smiling at me. I felt bathed in an undisputed love, and the warmth that smouldered through my bones had nothing to do with the sun.
"Good morning, beautiful," she said.
I've been told I was beautiful all my life, but no-one has ever made me feel it the way Katie does. C'est la simplicité de sa passion qui rend le doute futile. For the most part such protestations are driven by the intent to get in my pants, but for her it is simply a statement of the facts. We haven't made love since she found me in the clutches of the darkness, but at no point have I sensed any impatience on her part. Her love is unequivocal, and I adore her for that.
We were lying face to face, and for several minutes we just took the time to stare at each other. Our smiles grew gradually wider as we drank in the person who inspired such a carefree devotion in our hearts. Sometimes when I look at her like this, I can't quite believe that she's real. That after all this time I have found someone with whom I feel safe enough to let the mask drop completely. Katie has been witness to all the darkest parts of me, and there she still was, grinning at me like I was simply the most delightful thing she had ever discovered. Not getting angry or frustrated with my faults, simply waiting until I could find the strength to be with her again. This was the final thing I had learned, and finally learned to appreciate. Katie was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
I suddenly felt the overwhelming need to kiss her, and reached over to curl my hand around her neck. The first touch of those beautiful soft lips on mine was pure comfort. It didn't matter that I was a mental case, and probably looked like microwaved shit after the excesses of the night before, she still wanted my caress, still wanted this intimate physical conversation. Son tendre accord était tout ce dont j'avais besoin pour savoir qu'aujourd'hui serait encore une journée souriante. A day that would be worth doing battle with the darkness for, because someone believed in me. Because I was loved. Incomplete, fractured and fucked up as I was, I was loved. She told me too, over and over again as we lay there snogging in the afternoon sun. "I fucking love you, Effy," like it was a mantra. Like it was her faith.
She was careful too, keeping her kisses light and non-invasive, hiding any evidence of inappropriate desire, letting me set the pace, showing me she was still happy to wait for me. It was a beautiful gesture, and one that did not go unappreciated. It meant a lot to me that she had understood that I was not rejecting her, but that I wanted to give her a more complete version of myself. But as her talented lips continued to dance across me so lovingly and so generously, I felt my depressed libido roaring back into life like a sleeping dragon raised from its slumbers. I began to kiss her more deeply, and I felt her body stiffen as she attempted to conceal any evidence of arousal without pulling away. It was simply too fucking cute, and a cheeky devil rose up inside me telling me to see how far I could tease her before she cracked.
Of course I wasn't going to do anything as obvious as grabbing her tits, but I began to subtly undulate my body as I slid my tongue oh so slightly deeper into her mouth. I could tell she felt it by the quickening of her breath, but still she trod the noble path and tried to restrain her impulses. That would never do. I started to ghost my fingers over her skin. Lightly enough that it could be taken as pure affection, but I knew my Katie. It might appear that my touch was drifting aimlessly, but I had memorised this body and like a pirate memorising a map, I knew exactly where to find the treasure. One by one, I began to stimulate all of Katie's special little spots. Oh so tenderly, and yet with such a fiendish intent, I could feel the tension rising in her as she struggled to control her body's natural reactions. I ran my index finger lightly over the top curve of her ear. I drew infinity signs on the not insubstantial muscle of her bicep. I marked out the crossed sign of a kiss on the inside of her wrist. The understated movement of her hips was almost a tremble, as my innocently iniquitous fingers marked their progress on her flesh, but I was saving the best for last. There's a spot at the base of her spine, just where her back meets the curve of her arse, and every time I touch it, it releases something primal in her. I fucking love that spot.
I knew she was already struggling as I brushed a painting of sensation down her back. I drew my hand away, giving her a moment to catch her breath, before I drew her into another tender kiss. And then I struck, swerving all four fingers in an S shape across her special spot. Her moan exploded into my mouth, and her whole body shuddered into spasm. She pulled away from me in shock.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It was just, fuck, I couldn't help it."
"Couldn't help what?" I teased, as I retraced the devil's path again.
"Oh God," cried Katie. "It's too much, I can't…"
"That's ok, darling," I said, sliding myself on top of her. "You don't have to."
"Are you sure?" she said breathlessly. "I don't want to force you into anything you're not ready for."
"Not an issue," I replied. "The question is, are you ready for this?"
I slid my thigh hard against her pussy as I pushed my tongue deep into her mouth. Her arms flew round my back, and she pulled me tight against her, her legs opening beneath me and her hips pushing upwards, inviting me in. Now I'm the kind of girl that never likes to refuse an invite to a party, so I slipped my hand between our unquiet bodies to give my lover everything she deserves. She was so wet I nearly lost my cool and shattered my dominatrix attitude at the first touch.
"Oh my fucking, my fucking, fuck," or some such nonsense hurtled out of my mouth.
Even now it still comes as a shock that I can do this to her, but that afternoon as she slipped seamlessly from being my carer to being my lover, it was nothing short of a revelation. Even after pulling me from the depths of my depression, when I became a lifeless, useless husk, she still found me desirable and the evidence was spilling out all over my hand.
C'est purement mon instinct qui me fit plonger au plus profond d'elle et c'est ce même instinct qui me força à pousser plus fort en entendant les cris que j'avais éveillés en elle. Katie's arms were shackled tight around my back, and she pushed back up against me with all the strength she had.
"Oh God Effy, fuck me. Please fuck me," she yelled into my ear.
What could I do? I fucked her. I was powerless to do anything else in the face of such compelling need. In that moment I lived to give her everything she wanted, and I plunged myself into that sodden paradise again and again and again. She took me, she totally fucking owned me, consuming me with her gorgeously powerful cunt. I was shaking and sweating as I thrust into her faster and faster. My face found its way to her tits, and I buried myself there, planting my mouth around her nipples and sucking on her till she gasped. One of her hands wrapped tightly into my hair, pulling me aggressively into her breast. The other was pushed hard into the bed, giving her leverage with which to force her hips against me with increasing violence. My name was the punctuation for a cacophony of curses that sang from her mouth in both of our languages as we propelled ourselves towards her orgasm.
Her climax came in a cyclone of carnality and emotion. It was so fucking beautiful, I would have cried had I not been so busy clinging on for dear life as Katie flung us around the bed. I knew I had been right not to fuck her when I was ill, because this was what she truly deserved. A passion so grand it destroyed everything in its path. Even the fucking darkness.
"What the fucking fuck was that?" were the first words out of her mouth more than several minutes later.
"Tu m'as manqué," I said truthfully.
"I've been right here, babes," she said soothingly, though even now slightly breathless.
"Yeah, but I haven't," I replied. "I got lost again."
"I'll find you," she said, making it sound like a promise. "I'll always find you, and bring you back home again."
A fire began to burn inside my chest when she said the word 'home'. From the sense she gave me that 'home' was something that we shared. No longer was I a lonely stranger fumbling around in the twilight. I had a beacon to guide me out of the shadows. I had somewhere to go. I had a home, and home was wrapped lazily around the body of a sweaty, just fucked Katie Ford.
There were many filthy worn-out snogs and declarations of love in the hour that followed, completed by the most spectacular fucking of one Effy Stonem, and with a grand finale featuring Bristol's most scandalous shower. All of which led to me grinning in smug delight as I watched Katie towelling herself dry, and pondering on whether I should just get her wet all over again. She smirked back at me when she caught me perving.
"Feeling better then?" she said cheekily.
"Much better thanks, Doctor K," I replied.
"Good," she said, coming to straddle me as I perched on the edge of the bath, sending fire spinning outwards through my limbs again. "Well then, it's time to get off your lazy arse, and start working on your competition design."
She kissed me roughly, and then span away and out of the bathroom before I had time to blink. That was my Katie – part goddess, part sergeant-major, and I fucking worshipped her for it.
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.
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So now when I look in the mirror I no longer see a drug-fuelled freak who got lucky when she discovered she had some kind of talent. I see a woman with an obstacle she is determined to overcome, surrounded by people who will do anything in their power to help her. And I can laugh at this new found optimism that I will actually succeed in my mission to prove myself. When I look into the eyes that have always seemed to hold such a fascination for the outside world, I can see a sparkle I've not seen there before. I've put on weight, but trust me that's no bad thing. I now resemble a woman rather than a sack of bones. My skin has colour and my very heart seems to beat more easily. Food tastes better, and every other sense seems to operate more keenly. My mind feels sharper than ever, and when Katie kicked my butt and got me moving again, the inspiration began to fire out of me in a chain reaction, each bright idea sparking a dozen more.
We got to Plymouth yesterday and as I stood looking out over the harbour after the first day's rigging on our site, I knew I had a killer design. I projected my mind outwards to where most of the audience would be standing and imagined how it would look from their point of view. I had it all mapped out in my head. During the prep I had Google mapped every possible perspective and envisioned the whole work of art I would create and the emotional response I wanted to trigger in the backs of people's consciousness. It was going to be fucking beautiful. I was going to make their hearts explode.
I felt the lightest of touches on the small of my back, but it was no cause for alarm. I knew it was Katie. I could sense her. J'ai toujours su que la nature m'avait douée d'un sens aigu de la perception; mais l'intimité semblait le décupler. I had never revealed myself to anyone the way I had to her, but instead of bringing terrors and constrictions it had only seemed to bring rewards. I had always resented the idea of needing someone as much as I had the idea of becoming dependent of prescription drugs, but it seemed that both were capable of offering me some form of liberation.
"Happy" she asked me in the casual fashion that regular people ask each other all time. I spun around and pulled her into my arms with a kiss.
"Yes," I replied.
And it was the truth. This love had the power to change everything, and Katie was its iridescent core. I believed in her.
"Cook's whining about getting some food before the shows start," she said.
"That boy loves his stomach almost as much as he loves his dick," I smirked.
Katie's magical laugh rippled all around me and I squeezed her hand before releasing her and heading back to join the boys.
With our bellies full of Indian, we wandered back down to the harbour to join the audience for the first of the night's displays. Three companies were firing tonight, whereas we were firing last of three tomorrow. It was a double-edged sword - we would be the most recent in the judges' memories, but their eyes would have already been jaded by the displays that had gone before us. Once again I closed my eyes and played out the shapes and colours that would fill the sky from here tomorrow. I felt confident, I knew that I had made something good. Now bring on the competition.
The first two displays were competent and nicely planned, but nothing to write home about and certainly nothing to have me quaking in my boots, but the final show piqued my interest. Their music choices were as mainstream as fuck, but the pyro itself had been put together with an unusual precision. The use of space and the way the material filled the sky was excellent. There was a good range of colour and height and the sound to light choreography was needle sharp. I had to admit I was impressed, and there was some material in there that I struggled to identify. It was definitely the one that stood out from the night's offerings, but there was something about it that bothered me. It was too perfect, too clinical. It was almost as if the design had been done by a machine programmed to calculate the most efficient way of operating a fireworks display. It was slick, but emotionless. There was no sense of reaching out to an audience, as if it was only to be observed by other machines programmed to appreciate efficiency of the first one.
It was science, not art. Pour moi l'important c'est le public; il faut les laisser avec une émotion. For me, it's about something more than spectacle. More than something that can be forgotten the minute you walk down the road to get chips afterwards. It's about creating a memory, not just something that burns away as soon as the retina has released the information to the brain. Without our audience we are nothing but a bunch of geeks messing around with explosives in a very big backyard. That's not to say that this outfit wasn't dangerous. Some people aren't looking for art, they just want efficiency and value for money. They don't much care about anything other than things going boom, and getting the crowd to go 'oooh!' There are plenty of events where this company would do extremely well, and if the judges were of that opinion then this group was definitely the strongest competition.
"These are the people we are going to have to beat," I announced to the general atmosphere. "Who are they?"
"This is Fitchtastic Fireworks," replied Thomas looking at his programme.
"Really?" I said in surprise. "They're a lot better than last time I saw them."
"Word is they've got some new whizzkid designer in tow," said Freddie.
"Whizzkid or no whizzkid they can get to fuck," interjected Cook. "Cause we've got our very own Pyrogoddess!"
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Cook," I laughed. "What do you think, Katie?"
She just shrugged in reply. She had seemed a lot quieter than usual tonight, on edge somehow, but I knew she got a lot more nervous for me than I ever did on my own behalf.
"Come on, Katie," insisted Cook. "Those bozos don't stand a chance. We are gonna fucking destroy them."
We had a couple of pints after that, but despite Cook's protestations that it was a Saturday night and we should road test Plymouth's nightlife, common sense prevailed and we simply got a couple of carry outs and headed back to the hotel. I might be feeling good about my design, but we still had to rig it right and make sure the bloody thing fired. The boys were all sharing a big room so we crowded into there and ended up watching Jools Holland's 'Later' on TV. Freddie had been smoking since we knocked off work and had been consumed by a monster case of the munchies, so he had gone off to the all-night garage to arm himself with snacks. The rest of us were debating the shagability of the girl fronting one of the bands on the telly, when we heard him knocking thunderously on the door. Thomas got up to open it and was almost pushed off his feet, by Freddie storming aggressively into the room, his features contorted in rage.
"What's the matter Fredmonster?" asked Cook. "Did they not have any Jaffa Cakes?"
"That is what's the matter," he said, hurling a newspaper down onto one of the beds.
"The Plymouth Herald," said Thomas, picking up the offending article. "What have you got against the Plymouth Herald?"
"Page four," spat Freddie angrily.
"Giz it here then," said Cook, snatching the paper from Thomas's hands.
"What's all the commotion?" asked Katie, returning from the toilet.
"Whoa, Katie man," exclaimed Cook. "You've got a fucking double."
He held up the picture for all of us to see.
"She has a twin sister," I added helpfully.
"Who's holding hands with Naomi Diamond!" spluttered Cook.
"Who's Naomi Diamond?" I asked.
"She's a model," replied Cook, turning the picture back and openly drooling. "And she's got more mint than the friggin' Bank of England. What is it with you Ford girls and fucking supermodels? You have to tell me your secrets."
"Read the fucking caption, Cook," insisted Freddie.
I thought it was a bit of a tall order asking Cook to focus on words when there were two hot girls he could be looking at, but to my surprise he gave it a go. I looked over to share the joke with Katie, only to discover she had gone a ghostly shade of white, and her eyes were wide with fear.
"The gorgeous Naomi Diamond and her partner, filmmaker Emily Fitch," read Cook. "The celebrity couple are in Plymouth to support Emily's family who are taking part in the annual fireworks competition in the harbour tonight. I can't believe your sister's going out with Naomi Diamond, man. That's fucking unreal."
"Cook, will you get your head out of your dick for five seconds," yelled Freddie, grabbing the newspaper and starting to wave it in my face.
To be honest, I hadn't really paid attention, my brain overwhelmed by a sudden concern for Katie's welfare. The poor girl looked terrified, and it was ripping me apart. But Freddie wasn't about to let me get away with that
"Her partner Emily Fitch," he enunciated at me loudly and slowly, like a monolingual Englishman trying to make himself understood abroad. "Fitch, as in Fitchtastic Fireworks. Fucking Fitchtastic Fireworks who have suddenly gotten a whole lot better since you became 'friends' with Katie."
His eyes narrowed and bored viciously straight into mine. Le chiot perdu était devenu un grand méchant loup.
"Your girlfriend's a fucking spy," he said.
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.
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Frogatastic French
1. On dit qu'arrêter d'apprendre c'est arrêter de vivre.
They say if you ever stop learning, you might as well die.
2..des petites doses de magie chimique qui gardent les ténèbres à distance.
little doses of chemical magic to keep the darkness at bay.
3. Je ne voulais pas qu'elle fasse l'amour à un fantôme.
I just didn't want to make love to her as a ghost.
4. Je ne voulais pas le perdre mais, maintenant que j'avais goûté au bonheur, je ne voulais pas perdre ça non plus.
I didn't want to lose him, but now that I had tasted happiness, I didn't want to lose that either.
5. C'est la simplicité de sa passion qui rend le doute futile.
There is a simplicity to her passion that makes it impossible to doubt her.
6. Son tendre accord était tout ce dont j'avais besoin pour savoir qu'aujourd'hui serait encore une bonne une journée souriante.
Her gentle acceptance was all I needed to know that today would be another good day.
7. C'est purement mon instinct qui me fit plonger au plus profond d'elle et c'est ce même instinct qui me força à pousser plus fort en entendant les cris que j'avais éveillés en elle.
It was pure instinct that made me push myself inside her, and instinct that made me push harder when I heard the cries that it provoked.
8. "Tu m'as manqué," "I missed you,"
9. J'ai toujours su que la nature m'avait douée d'un sens aigu de la perception; mais l'intimité semblait le décupler.
I had always known I was gifted with an unusual sense of perception, but intimacy only seemed to enhance it.
10. Pour moi l'important c'est le public; il faut les laisser avec une émotion.
For me it is all about the audience, about leaving them with a feeling.
11. Le chiot perdu était devenu un grand méchant loup.
The lost puppy had become a bad wolf.