Black Lipstick Kisses by Monica Belle

get some of your shit out of view and all.’
    â€˜Yeah, right.’
    He put his pencil down, carefully, but I could sense his frustration as he began to tidy his work area. I was feeling the same, but there was nothing I could do and it felt silly just standing there. So I began to help, stacking the magazines and moving the chairs in an attempt to create some sort of order. In half an hour we’d succeeded, more or less. When Michael went into the kitchen Chris followed, and I was sure he was dropping a hint that I leave. I took it, dressing as best I could under my robe and making my excuses to them, only to have Michael quickly tag on. I was feeling pissed off as we went down in the lift, and in the street asked him straight out.
    â€˜So what’s the deal with the flat?’
    â€˜Chris is in property, buying to let or sitting on places until he reckons he can get the best price. He’s pretty generous, as it goes. I’ve been there two years, rent free, but he’s getting a bit impatient with it.’
    I nodded. It was a feeling I knew well, my own occupation of All Angels being more or less on sufferance. The difference was that if I lost it I’d be looking for squats. Technically I was already in one, but there are squats and there are squats. Feeling a bit more sympathetic, I took his arm. He accepted the gesture and began to steer me, not towards some convenientlylonely alley, which was where I needed to go in my belly if not in my head, but to a wine bar.
    It was further down the dockside, a trendy new place built of polished wood and glass. Across the dock was a rank of cranes painted black, not functional, but a sort of industrial sculpture, really quite Gothic. He ordered a carafe of wine, and my irritation began to slip away as we sipped and chatted, the funny side of what had happened slowly coming to the front, and I found myself smiling.
    â€˜Lucky your brother didn’t come in a few minutes later.’
    â€˜Lucky he didn’t bring the clients in with him!’
    â€˜Nah, that way you get to hang onto your flat for longer.’
    â€˜Yeah, true. He reckons it’s bad enough with my pictures on the walls. Apparently what really sells a place has nothing to do with practical things. According to Chris it’s all down to ambience. He’ll be making toast and coffee about now, to make it smell homely.’
    â€˜What could be more homely than a woman’s pussy?’
    For one tiny moment he actually looked shocked. I found myself smiling and blushing, embarrassed but pleased with myself at the same time. He was cool, but not that cool. There was no longer any need to act, at all.
    â€˜We could go back to All Angels?’
    â€˜Why not?’
    He drained his glass and I did the same. We rose as one and left, arm in arm, all pretence gone. We were going back to All Angels and we were going to fuck, plain and simple. It was a good way, half an hour on skates, and I was in no mood for small talk.‘Have you ever had sex on a grave?’
    â€˜No, I haven’t.’
    â€˜Well you’re going to. I like to imagine the person’s ghost watching me, maybe pleased, feeling that I’m honouring them, maybe angry at me, for committing sacrilege or for mocking them with my vitality.’
    â€˜What was the name of the tomb you were on when you came down for me, when we met?’
    â€˜Eliza Dobson. Yes, I have. Think how she’d rage, so angry yet so impotent, when in life she had all that power. I love to think of her, watching me bare, watching me enjoy a man’s cock, watching me fuck, all the things she tried to suppress.’
    â€˜What if she appeared to you? Screaming at you, clawing at you with ghostly hands.’
    For a moment I wondered if I should tell him, but decided it was better to keep it as fantasy, for the moment.
    â€˜Oh, yes please! I wish, I really do. I’d just fuck all the harder, put on a good rude show