You Don't Know Me

By: Georgia Le Carre


‘Got it,’ I say and take the glass.

‘Vsego khoroshego!’ he says.

For a second I hesitate. That phrase can mean all the best or goodbye.

As if he has understood the reason for my hesitancy. ‘All the best,’ he says in English.

‘All the best,’ I echo. It had not felt right. The thought that he might have been saying goodbye. I down the drink. It slides smoothly down my throat.

He opens the oven and the delicious smell of bread baking fills the kitchen. We sit and eat. He seems to watch me eat more than he eats.

‘Are you not hungry?’ I ask.

‘I’m hungry, but not for food.’

When I finish, he scoops ice cream into bowls. ‘If only we had some chocolate pieces to sprinkle on top,’ I say as I stuff my face with soft creamy ice cream. He gets up and opens a cupboard, rummages around and finds chocolate sprinkles. ‘Will these do?’

‘Okay,’ I say.

When I lay down my spoon, he comes over to me. He grasps my waist as if I weigh no more than a child, and puts me on the granite top. The stone is cold under my thighs.

‘My turn to eat ice cream,’ he says.

The ice cream is cold and I do giggle to start with, but not for long. He ruins ice cream for me forever.





Eight


Tasha Evanoff

‘What time is it?’ I ask.

He swivels his head at the alarm clock by the bedside. ‘Nearly four.’

So the night is all gone and it is almost time to leave. I sigh.

‘Can I use your shower before I go?’ I ask softly. I reek of sex.

‘Sure,’ he agrees. ‘There’s a clean bathrobe hanging behind the door.’

He watches me get out of bed. I walk away feeling sore between my legs. The bathroom carries the same décor as the rest of the house. There is a pale pistachio wall with a massive mirror encased in an ornate creamy lemon frame. I use the bathroom, ooh, sore, and get into the shower. I switch it on and adjust the temperature setting before I step into the rush.

I close my eyes and turn my face up to the water cascade. I try not to think. It cannot be over. Our time together flew by too quickly. How could something so wonderful be over? Suddenly, I become aware that the shower door is open. I twist around and Noah steps into the cubicle.

I watch the water pouring down his face.

He doesn’t say anything, but simply puts his hand to the back of my head and swoops down on my mouth. Unresisting, I flow into his arms, my body yielding to the hard planes of his. His insistent mouth parts my shaking lips and sends wild tremors through my body. The rest of the world falls silent and becomes nothing while I cling to him as the only solid thing in my shifting world.

The whole night he has avoided kissing me and I thought it was because he didn’t want to, but this kiss is hot and full of a kind of wild desperation. Like a condemned man who decides to gamble his life on a game of Russian roulette.

His tongue invades my mouth and I suck on it.

He pulls away from me and we stare at each other. His eyes are blazing and his jaw is clenched so tight I feel a spark of fear. Before I can ask him what is wrong, he turns away and walks out of the shower cubicle.

Wrapped in his bathrobe I venture cautiously into the bedroom. He is not there, but he has brought my clothes up and laid them on a throne-like red velvet armchair. I dress quickly. He has also put a hairdryer out and I use it. I pick his hairbrush and run it through my hair. It feels strange. I have never used anyone else’s brush in my hair before. Probably because I’ve never been allowed to stay at a friend’s for a sleepover, or pajama party.

Stepping in my shoes I go downstairs. He is in the living room, holding a glass of something amber.

‘Thanks for bringing my clothes up,’ I say shyly.

He lifts the glass in my direction in acknowledgment of my words.

‘I guess I should be going.’

‘I’ve called someone to take you back,’ he says quietly.

‘No, that won’t be necessary. I really should call a taxi.’

‘You’re either leaving with my guy or you’re not leaving at all. Take your pick.’ His voice is hard and unyielding.

‘Look, if I happen to meet someone I know, it is better if I am in a taxi. I don’t want to get anybody in trouble.’

Top Books