Lullaby by Claire Seeber Page B

picture of the girl. He swung to look at it. ‘Why?’
    ‘I’m not sure really. It makes me think of my childhood for some reason.’ God. I
must
have had too much to drink. But I caught that look again; the one I’d glimpsed in the office earlier that week. The one I’d recognised—and I realised what it was now. Sadness suddenly unveiled.
    ‘Was your childhood not much fun then, Jessica?’
    I shrugged. ‘It had its moments.’
    He reached over and stroked my naked earlobe. I caught my breath again. How could that little touch trigger the feelings that followed next? We wandered round the Emin together but I couldn’t concentrate any more. I felt Mickey’s presence at my side like a literal force of life, the energy emanating from him, despite his mood being darker than before. I saw something of me in him; some vulnerability he chose to hide—most of the time.
    And afterwards we didn’t even make it as far as the restaurant that he’d booked. The minute the taxi door closed behind us, Mickey pulled me towards him—and I didn’t resist. I wanted him so badly now that I could barely think. I rarely relinquished my control to anyone—but this man, this man was very different. Slowly, very slowly, he unbuttoned the long coat that I’d doneup so tight. This time it was desire I shivered with.
    ‘I’ve been wondering what’s under here all night,’ he murmured.
    Under here was that petticoat—and nothing else at all. He ran his hands along my naked collarbone; I bit down on my lip.
    ‘God,’ Mickey groaned quietly. ‘There’s something about you, little Jessica. Something I want very badly.’
    Then he told the driver to take us to the best hotel in town—his choice, Mickey said carelessly, and then he turned to me intently. He traced my mouth—my eager, swollen mouth—with his forefinger until I caught it between my teeth and sucked it gently. Mickey slid the other hand under my coat, across the silk, stroking the smooth flesh between my shaking legs. And then finally, just when I felt like I’d dissolve with pure anticipation, he pulled me to him again by my wildly escaping and most-deliberately-provocative plaits and kissed me hard, his teeth grazing my lips, and I kissed him back with an abandon I was glad to feel. I forgot the blackness of his earlier mood and yielded to the pleasure, proverbial putty in the hands that slid hot and hard over the sliding silk of the petticoat, tracking my body through the thin material. I didn’t even worry about the driver in front. I would have done it right there on the back seat, right there and then if he’d wanted to. I’d never felt like this before; completely floored by my own lust, so wanton and destroyed by it. Never in my whole life.
    *

    I didn’t speak on the way to Silver’s car, and when we got there I let Leigh go in the front though I knew the policeman wanted to talk to me. I just couldn’t concentrate on questions; my head was whirring with possibilities. Mickey travelled a lot with work, but I couldn’t think now if he had a trip coming up. Why the hell would he have his passport on him otherwise? My mind was a huge black hole churning the information round and round.
    The big car purred effortlessly onto the deserted road. Anyone with any sense was tucked up safe in bed, safe from this sticky night. We circled the concrete monstrosity that crowned Westminster Bridge, crossed the top of Waterloo, heading south again. Two young girls stepped suddenly from the darkness onto a crossing, and DI Silver stamped on the brakes. We all lurched forwards as the teenagers giggled at their own daring, obviously drunk, bare midriffs milky under the fluorescent streetlights, navel rings a-glimmer. The policeman’s jaw set.
    ‘Bloody stupid,’ he muttered. I leant my sore head on the cold glass of the window and listened to the crackles on the police radio. My swollen bosom throbbed agonisingly. In the front, DI Silver cleared his throat