Roses are red

…..After the Chase Post scriptum….

It is odd how some people can get into your head; their faces seeming to superimpose themselves on the memory; the timber of their voices strumming notes that send a warm shivers trailing down your spine.

There was something about him that made me smile. He had a way with words too, knowing just how much flattery was enough.
I didn’t dream about him at night, but I found that he was on my mind as soon as I woke up.
Sometimes as I lay awake in the dark knowing that Anna or Mary was in the house sleeping or making love with their boyfriends, my hand would steel down between my legs, and I’d imagine that it was his big, strong fingers stroking my clitoris and pushing between the delicate folds of my labia.

For three weeks I’d been running into him almost everywhere. I’d have suspected that he was following me, if he hadn’t always managed to be there first, making it look as if I was the one following him.

In the library he was sitting alone surrounded by books, his pad covered in an almost illegible scrawl. He looked up as I walked by his table, raised an eyebrow, nodded his head, smiled and then returned to work. Unfortunately the only vacant table was the one right behind him. For the next two hours I alternated between trying and failing to read, and staring fixedly at the back of his head, wondering why seeing him again, and having him sitting there bothered me so much.

A couple of days later I went to the park to find him lying on the grass sucking the end of a pencil, his eyes scanning the book on his lap. Anna nudged me as we walk past, her eyes taking in the solidly muscular legs protruding from his shorts, and the broad back that stretched his black T-shirt. He looked up, smiled, using his pencil as a waving device.

“He’s a honey,” Anna said, taking my arm and dragging me in his direction. “Come on, let’s go and say hello.”
“No,” I said sternly, “I don’t want to encourage him.”
“Why ever not? He’s fit and handsome and he’s got have brains, or he wouldn’t have gotten into this university.”
“He’s also arrogant and cock-sure and he has a……a fuck-buddy.”

“So, you like him then?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a feeling brought on by the way you said fuck-buddy, as if the thought of him with another woman was making you green with envy.”
“I certainly don’t care who he chooses to take to bed!”

The following Sunday morning Jane burst into my bedroom early. “Come on,” she said, “you have to get up and come with me.”
“Why? For Gods sake it’s only seven O’clock!” I said. “What’s the matter, is the house on fire?”
“No, but there’s something you’ve got to see.”
“I don’t got to see nothing,” I said pulling the quilt up to my chin. “It’s too early, come back in an hour, or preferably two.”
“Oh please come,” she begged, tugging at the quilt. “You’ll like what you see.”
I knew that she wasn’t going to go away; she was like a Rottweiler once she got started.

“Okay. But it better be worth it.”
“Oh, it is! It is!” she was dancing up and down excitedly like a child on Christmas morning.

Rolling out of be I pulled on my dressing gown and followed her out of the room, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Anna was leaning against a unit sipping a mug of tea, staring at a huge bunch of wine red roses in the middle of the kitchen table.

“There,” Mary said, pointing.
“Big deal! “ I said. “So you’ve got some flowers. I don’t know why-“”
“They’re not mine, silly,” she interrupted, “they’re yours.”
I looked at the bouquet and wondered whether I’d forgotten my own birthday. “Mine? Why? What’s the occasion?”
“Read the card,” she said reaching into the bunch and extracting an envelope.

“Pick you up for lunch at 12:30” it read.

I handed it to Anna.
“It’s not signed,” she noted, suppressing a giggle.
“But we all know who they’re from,” Mary said, nudging me. “What an absolute romantic he is. Nobody’s ever bought me so many flowers. They must have cost an absolute bloody fortune.”
“Well he’s going to be very disappointed,” I said, walking across to the kettle and flicking the switch. “I’ve no intention of going anywhere with him; not today, not ever.”

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