Black Lace Quickies 9 Read online

  My skirt dropped into position and I leant against the wall, panting. I could see the shape of him moving behind me, feel the brush of his movements, hear the shuffle of his feet. His breath was ragged like mine, and I felt its heat on my skin as he leant to print a kiss behind my ear.

  ‘Goodbye.’

  And then he was gone.

  ‘No,’ I pleaded.

  I didn’t see, hear or sense him go.

  He simply wasn’t there any more.

  It was just me, breathless and stunned, violently alone. I stood, tender, sticky and dishevelled, in a grubby alley off a gloomy street.

  Confused and a little hurt, I bent to hitch up my knickers. Typical bloody man, I thought, failing to convince myself. Then my heart lurched because the ground by my feet was glowing with bright pearly light. My boots were in a lime-lit mist, a blaze of white smoke illuminating concrete and stone. Afraid, I staggered away, turning to look. Weeds were growing up the wall, actually moving, hyper-real weeds in brash aerosol colours. Their leafy stems wriggled, their garish flowers pulsed, the patch emitting a strange phosphorescence as if a piece of moon had landed.

  I clamped my hand to my mouth, edging back to view more of the wall. It was impossible, all of it. Rising from the weeds, dark against the pale scarred stucco, was a life-size silhouette of a woman, legs apart, hands spread in surrender. Me.

  I thought of those terrible shadows left on Japanese walls after the hottest flash. And even as I thought that, the image seemed to shift to become something more crystalline, atomised. Was it sprayed? It glimmered wetly but I didn’t dare touch it. I could see my skirt bunched around my hips; the shape of my boots; how my hair had got messy; the way my mouth must look in profile when I cry out in ecstasy.

  Even now, I struggle to find words for it, and words are my trade. A simple dark shape and yet it felt so intricate. It had a delicate, evanescent quality, despite its solidity.

  No, that won’t do, that won’t do at all. Nothing will fix it. Nothing will describe it.

  I felt as if I were in the presence of an extraordinary vision.

  I felt as if my life had changed.

  I felt scared yet elated and I backed away faster, panic rising.

  Was this what they meant by another side? With him . . .

  Would it fade? Would it vanish like the walls?

  Dear Janie, I thought. Dear Janie . . .

  And then I didn’t know what to say. Because I didn’t know if she would listen.

  And even if I screamed, I didn’t know if I’d be heard.

  Kristina Lloyd is the author of the Black Lace novels Darker than Love, Asking for Trouble and Split.

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Epub ISBN: 9780753525265

  Version 1.0

  www.randomhouse.co.uk

  Black Lace books contain sexual fantasies. In real life, always practise safe sex.

  This edition published in 2007 by

  Black Lace

  Thames Wharf Studios

  Rainville Road

  London W6 9HA

  The Art of Fucking © Nikki Magennis

  Public Relations © Mathilde Madden

  Pickup Girl © A. D. R. Forte

  Union Blues © Monica Belle

  Cabin Pressure © Maya Hess

  Wet Walls © Kristina Lloyd

  ISBN 9780352341556

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.