A/N- I'd say that this chapter kinda pushes the "T" rating just a skoosh. It may even knock it completely over and take its lunch money...
The Future
Joe watched blankly as his hands fiddled with the dial on his washer. The reek of smoke filled his back porch as he tipped up the detergent bottle and dumped in an unmeasured amount. Wrinkling his nose, he fished in the closest rubbish bag and began shoveling Phyllis' clothes in by armloads. Slamming the lid down, he punched the start button and wandered into his sitting room to stare out the front window, past the Rubber Tree, out to his van.
"Why am I doing this?" he asked the Rubber Tree in dismay. "Why is she doing this?" The Rubber Tree had no relationship advice to give.
He thought vaguely about eating some supper, but felt like he would likely chuck up anything he managed to choke down. What he wanted to do was head to the pub and not come out until he was thrown bodily from the premises. Gathering his keys, he headed purposefully for the door, only to stop on the steps when his eye fell on the space where his house key had been.
"How am I going to get that back?" he mused, absently turning around and waking back into the cottage. The arhythmic thumping of a horribly overloaded and unbalanced washing machine met his ears. Cursing, he dragged himself back into the back porch and with hollow eyes watched the washer pitch and shimmy.
"Fuck!" he bellowed suddenly, kicking the side of the washer repeatedly. "Fuck fuck fuck!"
If his phone hadn't been shoved into his front pocket and set to vibrate as well as ring, he'd have never noticed the call. Fetching the washer one last kick, he dug the phone out and squinted at the mysterious number on the screen.
"What?" he snapped
"Nice," Thomas' voice rang through. "Did your Mum teach you to answer the phone that way?"
"Thomas?"
"No, it's your Great Auntie Josephine," Thomas replied, unable to resist poking Joe with a stick. "What the hell is that noise? Sounds like orcs at the gates."
"What do you want?" Joe demanded, wandering away from the incredible din of the washer, completely baffled as to why Thomas would be calling him.
"I want Phyllis to be happy," Thomas promptly replied, "What do you want?"
"What? What are you… She threw me over, Thomas. Rather decisively. Don't you have anything better to do than call me and… hang on…how the hell did you get this number?"
"How do you think?" Thomas replied. Joe could see his eye roll through the phone. "But don't chew his ass out. I assured him it was an emergency, and it is."
"What's the emergency?" Joe asked quickly. "Did something happen to Phyllis?"
"You happened to Phyllis, and it's fucked things up ever since. But it also made her mostly happy, until now."
"Thomas, if you don't start making some sense immediately, I'm hanging up and blocking this damn number."
"You want sense? Here's some sense…Phyllis threw you over because she obviously loves you enough to want to protect you. I can't imagine why, but that's neither here nor there as you're not my type."
"I'm still waiting for you to make sense."
"She's miserable. She's spent the day in her office crying. She hates herself for what she said to you, which she wouldn't repeat to me, so it must have been impressive…"
"Why are you telling me this?" Joe asked in befuddlement. "What can I do about it if she won't see me or talk to me?"
"Talk to her anyway."
"She said she didn't want me, Thomas. Why would she listen to me?" His voice cracked miserably, making Thomas grimace and hold the phone away from his ear.
"I thought you cared about her," Thomas replied. "But I guess she's not that important to you after all."
"Of course I care about her! And fuck you!"
"Then you need to tell her that."
"How many times do I need to say this? She doesn't want to see me or have anything to do with me."
"Yes she does. Now quit wanking about and get over here."
Joe took a deep breath and noticed his fingers were wrapped so tightly around his phone that he was leaving dents in the protective case.
"Thomas, I think in your own terribly fucked up way, you're trying to help. But you don't—"
"Oh fuck this," Thomas interrupted. "Do you love her?"
"Yes," Joe answered without hesitating.
"Then don't give up. Come over here and talk to her. I'll reschedule all her appointments or take them myself."
"She might hate you for doing this."
"I'll take the risk," Thomas replied impatiently. "Now get your arse in gear and get over here."
With that, he hung up. Joe stared at the phone in his shaking hand, then looked over at the Rubber Tree.
"I've never done anything like this before in my life. What do I say?"
Not only did the Rubber Tree offer no wisdom, it also did not appear impressed with his chances.
Phyllis raised her head from her hands when she heard the door open quietly, then shut. "Fuck off, Thomas. Do me the courtesy of just giving me some space, mate. Please."
When there was no response, she growled and jerked around to face the door. Her eyes locked with Joe's as he watched her with a wary, yet determined expression. She gaped at him incredulously.
"How the fuck did you get past Thomas? What the hell do I have to do to put you off!?"
"Oh, you've vastly underestimated how bloody pathetic I can be," he replied seriously.
The bark of laughter that escaped her was a shock, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Joe's expression didn't change.
"I've come to apologize for not listening to you, for not understanding," he continued.
"Fine," she snapped. "You've apologized. Now fuck off."
"Actually, I was hoping you might listen to me for a minute," he responded.
Phyllis dropped her head to her hands with a groan. "Just go away, Joe."
"I will," he promised, "if you want me to. But I'd like to know something first."
Phyllis muttered something about calling the police and Joe shrugged.
"If you like. I guess that would be pretty bloody ironic, in a way. But my question is simple—"
"For fuck's sake…"
"Are you telling me to fuck off because you don't care for me? Don't fancy me in any way? Maybe because I'm too type A, or too obsessed with botany and I bore you off your tits? Or maybe I'm a lousy kisser? Or maybe you just found me amusing at first but realize what a blithering wanker I really am and have decided to cut your losses?"
Phyllis stared at him for a moment, then turned away and swallowed hard.
"If that's the case, then I'll creep away, sadder but wiser, and try to limit our interactions to nodding when I pass you on the street. And I'll be stupid and go to the pub to get so pissed and tear the place up so much that I get banned again - for life this time, so you don't have to worry about ever running into me there."
Joe watched her carefully, but she didn't meet his eyes. After a few moments, he continued.
"Now, if you're telling me to fuck off because you do care for me… if this whole, horrible, wretched fucking thing that's happening right now is because you care for me enough to give up any chance of us being happy together so I can be safe…well, there's nothing that's going to put me off. You might make me keep away, but it won't put me off. Any chance of that was squashed when I woke up on your sofa here, hungover as shit after being a complete and utter drunken douchebag to you, and you offered me coffee and didn't laugh much when your spider tattoo startled me. That's when I think I started to fall in love with you."
Phyllis drew in a loud breath and bit her lip to stop its quivering. "Stop," she pleaded in a whisper.
"So I guess what I'm wondering," he continued conversationally, "is if I go from here to just live a life? Or if I go from here with a life worth living - a life with you in it."
"You can't know—" she began, shutting her eyes tightly against the rush of hot tears that threatened to pour down her cheeks.
"You're right," he interrupted. "I can't know what will happen if you stay in my life. Maybe in seven years, we'll have to deal with your ex. Maybe we'll find that we can't make it work. Maybe I'll be crushed under a front end loader while trying to remove a privet hedge. Or maybe I'll finally snap and either strangle Jimmy or make him a partner…"
Giving up stemming the tears, Phyllis opened her eyes and peered blearily at him as he went through his list, ticking them off on his fingers with a look of concentration, as if he was afraid he'd miss something. She drew in a hitching breath and fought the urge to grasp his hands in hers, as if that would make him stop.
"Thing is," he continued, his voice rising with emotion, "I've never taken a chance that mattered before I met you. I want to find out what happens with you, no matter what it is. I don't want a life without you, no matter how safe it might be. I want…"
Phyllis looked up from his hands as his voice trailed off and saw him screw up his face to keep from crying. She watched as he took a few deep breaths and scrubbed at his cheeks with the back of his hand. For a long moment, neither said anything.
"I want you to be happy - I want to make you happy. I want that more than anything. So, what do I do, Phyllis?" he asked in a choked voice. "Do I just…fuck off?"
She tried.
She tried to find her anger in him barging into her office, not taking a hint, making this so bloody hard. She tried to convince herself that her mind was made up, that it was still for his own good.
She tried to tell him to fuck off.
But she remembered his strength during his dad's illness, his excitement at the way his life began to change, and his gratitude for the role she played in it all. She felt the ghosting of his fingertips on her scars, on her hip. There had been safety in his concern and in the gentleness of his arms around her. And the taste of his lips on hers had made her never want to stop kissing him.
She set all that aside and prepared to tell him to fuck off. But all that came out was ugly sobbing. He took a step towards her and raised a trembling hand, but didn't quite dare to touch her as she faced away from him, her shoulders heaving.
"If my goal is to make you happy, I seemed to have fucked that up spectacularly," he said quietly.
Phyllis began to sputter with laughter through her tears and struggled to breathe. He gently tapped her between the shoulder blades like she was choking, then rubbed his palm soothingly across her upper back.
"You're not a lousy kisser." she gasped. "You don't bore me and you're only a blithering wanker some of the time…"
As she babbled, Joe's heart jumped so abruptly it was nearly painful. He waited for her to continue, but she stopped talking to try to get her sobs to quiet. He left his hand resting lightly on her back, but wanted nothing more than to turn her so that he could see her face.
"Some of the time? Well…that's progress," he murmured.
"God, Joe…I can't…" she said in a shuddering breath, suddenly aware of the feel of his hand. She could feel him shaking with emotion. "I can't tell you to fuck off. I don't even want to tell you to take your hand off my back…"
Joe put both hands on her shoulders and gently turned her to face him. She closed her eyes as he cradled her head in his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs.
"So…I'm not a lousy kisser?" he asked as he caressed the sides of her face.
A tiny smile crept across her face and she opened her eyes to stare into his. He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. She breathed deeply and one part of her mind wondered why he smelled so strongly of detergent. Then she was pulling him to her, clutching the back of his shirt as she buried her face in his neck. They stood, holding each other tightly, not even acknowledging the rapid knock on the office door.
"Oi…sorry to interrupt," Thomas said with a truly annoying grin as he stuck his head in the door. "But I've got one of your clients getting all shirty about rescheduling his appointment tonight, Boss. In fact, he's sitting in the waiting area glaring like he's about to chew the sofa leather."
"Tell him I'll be out in a tick," she replied, her answer muffled into Joe's collarbone. Once the door closed, she reluctantly let go of his shirt and leaned back in his arms to look at him.
"I don't guess I'll be fucking off," he said with a little grin.
She smoothed her hands over his chest. "I wouldn't blame you if you decided to…after all this shit—"
Joe lowered his mouth to hers before she could finish. Her lips parted under his and she pressed closer to him, forgetting about her client waiting in the sitting area, pouring an apology and everything she couldn't yet say into returning the kiss. He broke the kiss much too soon, in her opinion, letting go of her entirely and stepping back.
"I never want to stop when I'm kissing you," he said in a raspy voice.
"I don't think I want you to stop," she replied.
He immediately reached out for her, just as there was a brisk rapping on the door.
"Alright! Alright! I'll be out in a bloody minute!" she yelled. Huffing in frustration, she rested her forehead against Joe's for just a second before sighing and stepping away to head for the door.
Joe reached out and grasped her hand. "Will you come back to the cottage, Phyllis? Please?"
She nodded slowly, then bit her lip. "We need to talk, though."
"Yeah. We do. But I'd rather talk there…"
They both turned towards the door when they heard raised voices in the front of the shop, one of which was Thomas'.
"I'll come back, then. After work. And if you're asleep, we'll talk tomorrow," she assured him.
He smiled and lifted her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. "I don't think I'll sleep unless you're there…"
"Phyllis!" Thomas yelled from the front. "This cranky bastard is about to tear my shit up!"
Phyllis hurried out the door to the front of the shop, followed closely by Joe. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the huge man standing on the sofa, bellowing at Thomas. Everyone in the shop was enjoying the show immensely.
"Claude, you gaping arsehole!" she yelled happily. "I didn't know you were back in England!"
"Phyllis, me darlin! I didn't know you were still hooked up with this smarmy bum bandit!" he yelled back, shoving Thomas so hard he stumbled back.
Joe gaped in confusion, having no idea if the giant man was a threat. But when he saw Thomas grinning and Phyllis being enveloped in a bear hug, he stopped assuming the worst. Still, he wasn't best pleased with it.
"Are you here for something new, or do you need me to repair someone else's fuck-up?" Phyllis asked when Claude lowered her to the floor.
"Work yer magic on me body, love!" he yelled. "Now that yer all done shagging that poor git in yer office."
Phyllis laughed, then noticed Joe staring suspiciously at the big man. She gestured for him to come over.
"Claude, this is Joe," she said, smiling at Joe's startled, wary expression.
"Lucky sod," Claude said as his huge paw engulfed Joe's hand. "Don't worry - I won't keep her long."
Joe mustered up a little grin, which broadened when Phyllis winked at him. "Good to meet you."
"Alright, Claude…for you, I'll cancel all my other appointments," she said, slapping him on the back.
"I'll see you later, then," Joe said, unable to stop grinning. Thomas gave him a very self satisfied look.
"You…owe…me," he said to Joe, emphasizing each word with a poke in Joe's chest.
Joe suddenly grabbed Thomas, spun him around, and bussed him loudly on the cheek.
"Fuck me!" Thomas yelled, jerking away from Joe and glaring at him.
"I don't think I owe you that much," Joe replied, as the shop rang with howls of laughter.
"I'll definitely want to hear all about this, Thomas," Phyllis said. Thomas glared at her and muttered something about regretting everything nice he'd ever done for her.
Joe paused at the door to look back at Phyllis getting her large friend settled. She was listening to him start off on a loud and obscene anecdote from his travels, but let her eyes settle on Joe at the door.
He took her smile with him and replayed all the promise in it as he repaired his washing machine and soldiered his way through Phyllis' laundry.
She hesitated on the steps of the cottage, not as late as she usually was; Thomas had insisted that she leave early and let him take care of the drunks and insomniacs that would pour in after midnight, demanding a tattoo. But it was late enough. And she was tired and wrung out from working on the incessantly jabbering Claude on top of all the emotional upheaval.
She didn't really want to talk. What she wanted was to curl up next to Joe like she had the night before and sleep in his arms. Perhaps, without the shirts this time…
While she was pondering with a little smile on her face, the door opened. Joe stood in the entryway, droopy-eyed and balancing a laundry basket on his hip.
"Thought I heard the scooter," he said, stepping back so she could come in. "I wasn't expecting you home this early." He glanced apologetically at the basket. "I was hoping to get it all done before you got here."
"Thomas kicked me out of my own shop," she replied. Taking a second look at the basket as she passed, she noticed all the clothes were hers and looked at him questioningly. "What's all this?"
"Well, I couldn't leave everything sitting in bags out by the garage…" he said sheepishly.
"And what would you have done if I had stuck to my guns and told you to fuck off?" she asked with a grin.
Joe shrugged. "Probably cleaned everything and dropped it off sometime when you weren't around. That way, you'd have at least one decent memory of spending time with me."
He blinked nervously at her unreadable expression as she stared at him.
"Put it down," she ordered, gesturing at the basket.
He had barely set the basket carefully on the floor when he found his arms full of her. Her momentum pushed him against the wall of the corridor as she kissed him and he wrapped his arms around her enthusiastically. He moaned into her mouth as she pressed closer to him and wrapped one leg around his and slid his hands down her back to cup her bum and hold her to him. As they jockeyed for position against the wall, Joe's foot caught the basket and tipped it, scattering the clothes everywhere.
"Not that I'm complaining," he gasped as she began kissing his jaw and working her hands up under his t-shirt, "but didn't you want to talk?"
"No…yes…but not tonight…not now…" she whispered between kisses. She shifted her body against his, wringing a groan out of him. "And you don't want to talk either, by the feel of things," she finished, making her way back to his mouth and capturing his lips again.
Talking was definitely not at the top of his priority list at that moment. Breathing was even taking a backseat compared to what her tongue was doing in his mouth while her hands wandered his bare back under his shirt. When she caught the edge of it and began to pull it over his shoulders, they broke apart long enough for her to tug it completely off and for him to notice the clothes scattered across the floor.
"What?" she asked. He was distracted by the bra that was caught on the heel of his shoe.
"I just washed these bloody things and…" he bent down to try to disentangle his foot, "…if I tried to carry you off to my bedroom like I want, I'd trip and possibly kill us both."
Phyllis laughed at his frustrated grumbling and knelt down to help him. They gathered the clothes, watching each other out of the corners of their eyes as they did. As Phyllis stretched away from him to chase down a pair of leggings, he found her backside to be so engrossing that he sat down in the middle of the corridor with a sock in his hand and simply watched. When she turned to see him staring at her with a dazed expression, she chucked the leggings at him with a grin.
"Get busy, you. I'm not going to pick all this up on my own so you can sit there and ogle my arse. The sooner we get this cleared, the sooner we can move out of the entry way to someplace nicer."
Joe ducked and flushed with embarrassment. "Are you saying my entry way isn't nice?"
"It's nice enough as entry ways go, Joe," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "but it's not exactly where I was hoping to shag you tonight."
Joe dropped the sock into the basket and began scooping up armfuls of clothes. Phyllis took advantage of his frantic activity to observe him, running her eyes from his tousled hair down to his bare chest. His clothes tended to hide that he was rather fit. He paused with a handful of knickers to return her stare.
"Now who's ogling?" he teased as he tossed the last of the clothes into the basket.
"I am," she admitted, moving closer and running her fingers lightly over his tattoo.
"It's nice work, isn't it," he commented lightly, "in spite of the quality of the canvass."
Phyllis could feel his chest moving rapidly under her fingertips. "Let's go somewhere so I can look at it a little more closely," she suggested.
"So long as I can do the same with yours," he replied, bending over and reaching for the basket. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Leave the bloody laundry," she said firmly. "It'll keep."
She took his hand and tugged lightly. He followed her down the corridor until she paused in the doorway to her room. Her bed was covered in stacks of neatly folded clothes and there was a dusty ring around the bare spot on the table that had previously held an obscenely healthy Christmas Cactus.
Joe moved up and wrapped his arms around her. She leaned back into him, content to be held against his bare chest for a moment.
"How did you…?" She gestured at the empty table.
His arms tightened around her as he sighed. "I opened the window, took off the screen, hooked it with a garden rake and dropped it to the ground."
"You didn't!" she said, turning in his arms to smile at him.
"Yeah," he replied. "I did. Then I drove over it with the ATV."
"Really?" she asked, delighted.
"Several times," he confirmed, his eyes sparkling. "I quite enjoyed it."
"I'm going to quite enjoy thanking you for that."
He knew he was babbling as her lips traced the tattoo on his chest, but he couldn't seem to stop.
"I wanted you to do this after the tattoo," he murmured, running his fingers through her hair spread across his chest. "I wanted you to touch me without those gloves…" He could feel her smile against his skin.
Phyllis shifted her body to lay directly on top of him and nipped kisses down his torso towards where she had already undone his trousers. Joe reached down her back and grasped the hem of her shirt, bunching it in his fists as he pulled it slowly up. She raised up enough to allow him to slip it off over her head, then sat up, straddling him in order to release her bra clasp.
"Don't…please," he said, sitting up and running his hands down her back. "Can I do it?"
"Did you want do that when I gave you the tattoo…when I showed you my dragon?" she asked him.
Joe had taken the opportunity afforded by proximity to begin kissing down the swell of her breast, running his tongue lightly over the hummingbird staring at him with a beady, challenging eye. His reply was muffled.
"God, yes… I wanted to see and touch every inch of you… to see how each of your tattoos tasted—"
Phyllis interrupted his monologue by tilting his head up and kissing him hard. She grasped his hands as they wandered up and down her sides and pulled them towards her back. His fingers fumbled with the bra clasp as he returned her kiss.
"I thought you were good with your hands," she teased when he let out a frustrated grunt and pulled his lips away from hers to try and peer over her shoulder.
"I am when I'm not distracted," he protested.
"Shall I turn the light on and draw you a diagram?"
He flopped back onto his bed and gave her a pathetic look. She rolled her eyes at him, unsuccessfully fighting back a grin, and reached over to the bedside lamp to flick it on. He squinted in the glare and frowned as she clambered off of him to sit on the edge of the bed with her back to him.
"Well? Go on then," she ordered, looking over her shoulder at him. He knitted his brow in confusion for a moment before the light dawned in his eyes. The bed dipped as he sat up and scooted closer to her, his fingers working nimbly at the clasp while he dropped kisses over her shoulders. She arched back against him and couldn't prevent a yawn.
"Am I boring you?" he mumbled into her neck as the clasp came loose.
"Not at all," she replied, bringing her hand up to the side of his face. "The day's just catching up with me a bit."
"Do you want to just go to sleep?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her and resting them on her belly, just below her breasts.
She took his hands in hers and slid them up until they cupped her breasts. "Do you?"
Joe responded with an inarticulate groan and pawed at the straps of her bra until it fell off. Phyllis' laugh cut off with a squeal when he pulled her down next to him on the bed and kissed her as he rubbed his palms slowly across her nipples.
"I don't want to just go to sleep," he mumbled. "But if you're tired…"
Phyllis arched against his hands and ran hers under the waist of his trousers to squeeze his bum before pulling his body tighter against hers.
"Stop talking so much, Joe," she ordered as she slid her leg over his and pulled him to hover over her.
Joe stopped talking. In any case, he was more interested in the noises Phyllis was making as he lowered his mouth to her breast than in conversation. And he wasn't capable of saying anything coherent at all once she began pushing his trousers and shorts down over his hips.
"Take them off, Joe," she said, pushing him to one side and sitting up to help him. He kicked them off vigorously, drawing in a deep, stuttering breath when she ran her fingers up and down his thighs before wrapping her hand lightly around his erection.
"Oh God, Phyllis!"
She smiled at the desperate longing in his voice. But as she began to move her hand in firm strokes, he grasped her wrist, shaking his head.
"I can't…" he gasped. "I can't hold out much longer."
For a moment, Phyllis was tempted to ignore his plea and bring him off. He felt good in her hand and his frantic breathing and wide eyes made her feel powerful and very much in control. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been the one to control the pace and outcome of sex.
He shivered in arousal as her eyes held his, and she saw the vulnerability in them. With one last squeeze, she released him. His sigh of relief was lost in her mouth as she kissed him slowly.
"Can I…?" he began, tugging gently at the waistband of her leggings.
She lifted her hips and grinned at his expression when he discovered she wasn't wearing knickers under them. He was distracted by the tattoos on her thighs before he had gotten them down past her knees.
"You're so incredibly beautiful," he muttered as he stroked the intricate garter tattooed on her right thigh. "I don't think I've ever seen anything as sexy as this."
"Not what you were expecting?" she asked with a gasp as he lowered his head and began nibbling down the ribbon towards her knee.
"I just want to slide my fingers underneath it," he said. "Or feel it pressed into my ear."
"Fuck, Joe…take them the rest of the way off," she moaned.
He obliged without taking his eyes off of her. She tried to reach him to bring him back up the bed, but he lifted her foot up to get a better look at the tsunami that ran from her ankle up her calf.
"Joe…"
"I dreamt of touching every single one of your tattoos," he said distractedly, kissing the inside of her knee.
"That'll take all bloody night," she replied impatiently, "and I want you now." She gripped his shoulders and urged him to make his way back up her body.
"Can I just have a moment?" he pleaded, dragging his fingers along her inner thigh, delighting in the way her back arched and her breath hissed between her teeth when he reached his goal and began to stroke her between her legs.
"Oh God…take your time," she panted, pulling him down to kiss him.
He did take his time, wanting to be inside of her desperately, twitching and gasping when she cried out and her hips bucked and brushed against his erection.
"You are good with your hands," she mumbled, shutting her eyes when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.
"I don't want to disappoint you," he whispered.
She grabbed his face with both hands and looked into his eyes. "The only way I'm going to be disappointed is if I have to go all the way back to my bag for the box of condoms Thomas chucked in there before I left."
Joe stretched across her and scrabbled for the drawer on his side table. She squirmed underneath him, reaching down to stroke him again, making him close his eyes and grope blindly for the condoms he'd bought the night of their date in a fit of optimism. He managed to snag a row of them and fumbled them with shaking hands to try to separate one and open the package.
"For God's sake, Joe," she said with a laugh, "let me help."
He gladly gave up the task to her and watched as she adroitly opened a package and rolled it onto him. Not wasting any time, she pulled him back over her and wrapped her legs around his. He braced himself on his arms and stared down at her as he rolled his hips gently and slid into her. When she arched her back and thrust her hips up, pulling him deeper into her, he gave a choked gasp and lowered his head to kiss her throat.
"I love you…God, I love you," he moaned next to her ear.
Phyllis clutched his back and decided she wanted this man inside her forever. He moved faster in response to her breathy moans and whispered encouragement, knowing he wasn't going to able to hold back his climax much longer but unable to even consider trying to slow down.
Phyllis could feel him tensing and held him tighter. When he cried out and shuddered, his thrusts slowing as he panted and tried to keep from collapsing on her, she pulled him down to her, not wanting to let go of him yet.
"Don't go," she told him as he kissed her neck and jaw. His mouth covered hers and his hands cradled her head as he kissed her gratefully.
"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured between kisses. "I'm really not. I couldn't move right now if my life depended on it." He could feel her body shake with laughter and lifted his head up enough to smile at her. "Besides, I haven't seen all your tattoos yet."
They lay together, sated, until the sweat of their bodies cooled and forced them under the blankets. Joe rolled over on a condom package, which stuck to his still moist skin, making him swear under his breath and bat at it. Phyllis grabbed his hand and plucked it off herself.
"We might need this later," she scolded.
Joe laughed wearily as a wave of exhaustion rolled over him. "You give me too much credit," he mumbled as his eyes closed.
"We'll see about that," she replied, cuddling into his side under the arm he wrapped around her as he drifted off.
Phyllis proved to be somewhat prophetic. By the time the alarm went off, they'd used two more.
Phyllis maneuvered her scooter carefully through the damp, misty morning air. Sunday might be a day of rest for Joe, but she had a shop to run. He'd thrown together a decent fry-up after their early morning lovemaking and offered to drive her to work, but she'd declined.
"I may need my scooter during the day, and this way you won't have to come out to fetch me late tonight. You're not at my beck and call."
"I could be, if you wanted me," he'd responded with a grin.
"Just be ready when I get back tonight. If you're asleep, I intend on waking you up!"
She parked the scooter and walked in through the back door without even noticing that it was unlocked. Thomas sat on one of the sofas and watched her with an amused smile as she went to the coffeemaker to start it up and looked at it in confusion when she realized there was a fresh pot already made. It was then that Claude, who was asleep on the other sofa let out a huge snore, making her spin around to see Thomas leaning up on one elbow, watching her with a smirk from the other sofa.
"Had a good night last night?" he asked in a loud whisper.
"I did, " she replied, warning him with her glare not to ask anymore questions. "What the hell is he doing passed out in my shop?"
"Long story," Thomas replied with a grimace. At her suspicious look, he rolled his eyes. "Seriously, you do not want the details."
Phyllis just shook her head and started back to her office.
"You must have had a bloody phenomenal night if you can't be arsed to get to the bottom of this," he called quietly after her.
"If he pukes every where when he wakes up, he's your responsibility," she replied as she left. When she got to her door, she turned back with a raised eyebrow. "And I did have a bloody phenomenal night."
"Bloody Molesley," he said with a wide grin as she shut the door quietly. "Who'd have guessed?"
Joe Molesley wouldn't have guessed. It never occurred to him that Phyllis was as distracted as he was that morning. He replayed her threat to wake him up in his mind over and over again as he cleaned up the breakfast dishes, finished the laundry and watered the plants.
"Bloody hell, that was incredible," he confided to the Rubber Tree as he showered it with water from the can with a dazed air. "Shit…oh damn it. Sorry, mate," he sputtered when the water overflowed the pot and began dripping on his shoes.
The Rubber Tree drooped in a martyred fashion.
Joe cleaned up the water and returned to his bedroom, where he found himself staring at the three, empty condom wrappers. A long shower might be in order before he went to visit Dad. As he scooped up the wrappers and used condoms to throw them in the bin, he revised his shower plans to mostly cold. Leaving the bed turned down to air, he wandered into the bathroom.
Mr. Molesley the Elder watched his son tap his fingers anxiously on the table and twitch in his chair while making small talk. When Joe knocked his tea over and began to frantically try to mop it up with the sofa pillow he snatched up , Bill Molesley had had enough.
"For love of God, Lad," he wheezed. "What's got you so keyed up? You're scattered worse than pigweed."
"Sorry, Dad…sorry," Joe stammered, still trying to clean up the spill.
"Leave off with t' bloody pillow, Lad, and tell me what you're about!"
"Did you want to go to church today?" he asked reluctantly.
His dad snorted and shook his head. "I might, if t' good Vicar wasn't hanging about the facility all t' bloody time. I've seen quite enough of him lately." He shot Joe a hard stare from under his eyebrows and his neatly trimmed mustache twitched.
Joe would have laughed, but Dad's discerning look made him squirm. "He's a piece of work, yeah." he said, clearing his throat. "Bit of a gossip, too."
"Got the wrong end of t' stick, does he? 'Bout you and some woman?"
"Ah…well… I am seeing someone…"
Joe flushed as visions of just what he'd seen came to mind. His dad's eyebrows shot up and he hid a smile as he watched his son stammer and blush.
"Serious, is it?"
"Yeah. It is." Joe took a deep breath. "I'm in love with her, Dad."
"That woman wi' t' shop next door? T' one you called a… a… what was it? A 'nightmare of a walking canvas'?"
Joe bristled. "Well, I didn't know her very well then, did I?" he snapped. "She's a lovely person…just beautiful. And talented! And she's strong, Dad. Strongest, most caring person I've ever met. I don't know what she's doing with me…"
Bill Molesley listened to his son's vehement defense of his girl and smiled.
"So… when do I get to meet her, then?"
"Um… I don't know," Joe replied, taken aback.
"If she's as wonderful as all that, you'll be wanting to marry her, won't you?"
"What?! We haven't… That's not something we've discussed, Dad." Joe missed the twinkle in his Dad's eye as he teased his son. "I mean, I would…probably. But I don't think she'd want to. Um…marriage hasn't worked very well for her before. And she probably wouldn't…"
"You're not so far along as that, but you've moved her into the cottage - lock, stock and barrel," his dad said with a shake of his head. "You young 'uns."
"She didn't have any place to stay, Dad. Her flat was firebombed while we were out on our first date…" Joe stopped protesting when he finally realized his dad was having him on. He glared at him.
"I raised a bloody Good Samaritan alright," Mr. Molesley said, breaking into a wheezing laugh.
Joe watched in alarm as his dad's face turned purple from struggling to breathe, and he scrambled for the oxygen cannula. Bill waved him away and took a deep drink of his tea.
"Stop it, Dad," Joe ordered. "If you keel over, you won't ever get a chance to meet Phyllis."
"Can't be having that," he sputtered as he coughed and grinned. "Your Mum would never give me a moment's peace if I passed on afore meeting the woman that's got our lad in such a twitter."
Joe rolled his eyes and felt about fourteen years old. Dad suddenly reached across the table and smacked him on the shoulder.
"Pub's open. Let's go have a pint, Lad."
Phyllis put the delicate finishing touches on her client's owl's feathers. The ornithologist has come all the way from Leeds because word of mouth had gotten around that she was accurate with birds. Phyllis listened with half an ear as the bloke rattled off another list of distinguishing features of the Long Eared Owl before complaining darkly that amateurs preferred to call it the "Hornie Hoolet." She smiled as he shoved pound notes at her, unable to take his eyes off of the finished piece.
"I've got a new nickname for you, Thomas!" she called across the shop.
"Sod off," he snapped, etching a tentacle down a young man's arm. "You're insufferable when you've gotten laid."
"You're insufferable when you've not," she replied with a grin, "and that's most of the bloody time lately."
"Need a night out with the lads?" Thomas' client asked with a grin.
"So to speak," Thomas mumbled.
"One lad, anyway," Phyllis put in.
Joe walked in the shop door to see Thomas glaring and shooting a rude gesture at Phyllis, who was leaning against the counter, laughing and looking happy. She smiled when she saw him and his heart flipped over.
"What would like to know about the Hornie Hoolet?" she asked him.
"Not a bloody thing," he replied, bewildered. "Your past is the past, Phyllis."
Phyllis and Thomas exploded in laughter. She was still giggling when she took Joe's hand and led him back towards her office.
"No shagging on the clock!" Thomas yelled after them.
"Like we would fit on the clock," she yelled back. "We're not gymnasts!"
As soon as the door was shut, Phyllis pulled him to her and kissed the confused look off of him. He was smiling again when she leaned back to look at him.
"Is the Hornie Hoolet a bloke or a sexual position?" he asked.
She buried her face into his chest until she stopped laughing. "It's a fucking owl," she gasped. "I did up an arm tat for a crushingly boring ornithologist from Leeds today."
"Sounds delightful," he said unconvincingly. "I visited Dad for a bit, then we went for a drink at the pub and I had to put him down for a nap after. He can't sup them like he used to."
"He's better, then?"
"Getting there." Joe looked at her with apprehension. "He wants to meet you someday."
Phyllis didn't look enthusiastic at the prospect. "I suppose he would—"
"I couldn't stop talking about how incredible you are," he interrupted nervously, pushing her hair back from her cheek and smiling when she rolled her eyes at him.
"And he didn't have a problem with me moving in?"
"No," Joe replied, a touch of surprise in his voice. "Set me back on my heels a bit to have him sitting with me in the pub and giving me advice about wooing a woman while he's getting tiddly on one pint."
"Wish I'd have been a fly on the wall. What kind of advice did he give?"
"I don't remember it all. He did say something about making sure the prophylactics were lubricated, and I told him I had that covered."
"He never did!" she replied, snorting with laughter and slapping his chest.
"I'd have expired on the spot if he had." Joe watched her laugh and loved her so much he felt dizzy. "He went on a bit about making sure you knew how I felt. Don't keep her guessing, Lad, and the like."
"I know how you feel, Joe," she said, resting her hand on his chest over his tattoo and kissing him again. As she deepened the kiss, he responded enthusiastically and began to walk her backwards towards her desk. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he boosted her onto it.
"I hope you do," he mumbled, running his tongue around her ear and making her shiver. "I want this to work so much, Phyllis."
She pulled his head back to look him in the eye, dismissing visions of making him take her over the desk. "I do too, Joe. I really do."
"Client is here, Phyllis!" Thomas' voice right next to the door made them jump.
"Be right out," she called back, kissing Joe again then hopping off the desk.
"I've loved you since you plunged a thousand needles into my chest," he blurted as she straightened her shirt.
Phyllis smiled. "There's a coincidence. I've loved you since I plunged a thousand needles into your chest."
Joe grasped her hands and brought them to his lips. "I'll see you back home, then?"
"You will. Back home."
She held onto his hand as she opened the door and walked back out to the front. Her eyes followed him as he stopped at the door and waved before he left. Before she went over to her client, she stopped at Thomas' station and hugged him fiercely.
Thomas sighed tragically. "So I guess this means that wanker is going to be around for the foreseeable future…?"
"Yes, he is," she replied with a smile. "He most certainly is."
A/N the second- All done! And thanks so much for reading a reviewing. Special shout out to my marvelous beta, Gelana, who deserves ALL the cookies and more for her outstanding editing. If it read well to you, it's down to her.