Quentin

Bloody hell, literary parties were boring as fuck. And they didn’t have anything to drink either. The fru-fru drinks didn’t count, he wasn’t going to be seen swigging bloody buck’s fizz. He’d rather have a coke and grump around all night. Was probably better that way though, not drinking; he’d be driving Tazzie back to her hotel later on. Well, hopefully with a stopover at Joey’s. If it still existed. And besides, he’d need his wits about him if he were to convince Taz that they should have another go at it… She responded to him well enough when he managed to get his arms around her, but she was full of doubts. Christ, he was full of doubts. Not about her mind you, about himself. How could he have been so fuckin’ stupid to let it go so pear shaped in the first place? It didn’t bode well for the future, that was a fact, but that wasn’t going to deter him. Not this time. He’d come this far with Kenny and his bloody self-analysis, and he was seeing it through. So there.

Taz looked like she was in her element, she moved through the room with ease, chatted to a lot of people and glanced back at him regularly, which made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe they were on after all, maybe he was just worrying over nothing. It wasn’t like him, stressing out like this. He never did that. He reckoned he needed a bit of fresh air.

Quentin determinedly waded through the crowd to get to the large balcony attached to the room. Smokers gathered there, and after one noseful of second-hand nicotine, he finally succumbed and quickly and smoothly bummed a smoke off a skinny girl who had publicity written all over her.

‘Hi, I’m Judith,’ she chirped, ‘here you go. Let me light that for you…’ She came disconcertingly close under the pretext of shielding the flame, and Quent lifted an eyebrow as she smelled his aftershave none too subtly.

‘Ta, mate,’ he said, when he’d sucked life into his smoke and had exhaled a blissful plume.

‘You look like you needed that,’ Judith said, looking up at him longingly.

‘Well, I did,’ he said, ‘you have no idea.’

‘Oh I’ve got an idea,’ she went on, ‘I’ve got loads of ideas…’ She tried to give him a broody, sensual stare, failed miserably, and he had to fight the laugh that tickled in his belly.

‘I heard you and Taryn Archer are… “special friends”…’she continued, carving the quote marks out of the air, ‘but the two of you aren’t officially dating, right?’

‘Well I suppose that’s… um… debatable,’ Tazzie, suddenly appearing next to him, said it with a smile in her voice. She leaned her head against his shoulder and he quickly wrapped an arm around her, before she went walking off again. He resisted the impulse to kiss her hair.

‘Oh… oh… So you are? Dating, I mean?’ Judith managed to simultaneously sound disappointed and excited.

‘What do you think?’ Tazzie said, turning to look up at Quent, that smile still playing on her lips.

He felt his heart leap as he looked into her eyes, and something warm and reckless spread through his body. ‘You know what I think…’ he softly said to her, pulling her closer still. He hesitated for just one instant longer, and then he simply dipped his head and kissed her.

It was only a short kiss, a quick, eager, possessive capturing of her upper lip, a fast flick of the tip of his tongue, but he knew she felt it as deeply as did he. It was more than just a kiss; it was an admission. A very public admission. She turned to him, laid her hand on his chest and her head on his shoulder, and relaxed against him for an instant. He felt bloody brill and he couldn’t care less that they were surrounded by people who had uttered a collective gasp the moment they kissed. Camera’s whirred and flashed. Judith gurgled something. He wasn’t bothered, he just closed his eyes for a tick, and leaned his cheek on the top of her head. Smelled her shampoo. Felt her breathe in time with him.

‘Shall we go?’ He felt more than heard Tazzie say it.

‘Yeah,’ he grinned, ‘wanna go get some real food?’ he cupped her face in his hand as she looked up to him, and again camera’s snapped the moment. He still couldn’t be bothered; he felt like a romantic hero in one of his own bloody films, when he was finally getting the girl. He was getting the girl. Here she was, right here, and he wasn’t about to let go of her.

Slowly, their arms around each other, they made their way to the exit. Some people actually congratulated them, and he resisted the urge to lift her up in his arms and carry her out the door in An Officer and a Gentleman style. He was sure he’d get the applause. Instead, he grinned mischievously and whispered to Tazzie, ‘…was it because I was chatting up another sheila?’

‘No it wasn’t!’ she replied with mock indignation. ‘And besides, you weren’t chatting her up, she was chatting you up! You were just trying to nick a fag off her. And succeeding, apparently.’

‘How did you…’ he muttered, thinking she could never have seen him smoke it.

‘I smelled it, you nutter, and tasted it when you kissed me. But I don’t mind, honest, if you want to smoke, ruin your health and all that, I’ll still love you.’

‘You will?’ he asked, his heart glowing.

‘I really don’t seem to have any choice in the matter,’ she softly said.

And then they made it outside, camera’s flashing, got into the car and drove off.

‘So why was it then, if it wasn’t for the other sheila?’ Quentin really wanted to know why she’d decided to change her mind all of a sudden, and practically announce to the room that there was more between them than just friendship.

‘Oh, I dunno…’ she softly said, ‘I guess it was just that I saw you, standing there, and I realized that I just had to walk over and be with you. I just had to. Nothing else mattered. I was actually talking to Umberto Eco, you know? I just left him standing there, poor old Umberto, and walked over to where you were. It was sort of pointless to maintain the whole friendship story to the girl when all I wanted was for you to put an arm around me and kiss me… I was just following my heart…’

Quentin smiled. ‘Following your heart’ s good, sweetheart. Let’s promise each other to always follow our hearts from now on, hey? We’ll be a lot better off if we do that, wouldn’t you reckon? Let’s forget about all the other stuff and just… Hey, where the fuck are we now?’ He fell silent trying to get his bearings and he drove around for a while, intensely concentrated, until Taz asked him, surprise in her voice, if he even knew where he was going.

‘Yeah… well… I know where I wanna go…’ he said a little wistfully, stopping at a red traffic light and looking to the left and right. ‘Bloody hell, I can’t seem to remember where we shot the fuckin’ cop film… I was sure it was somewhere around here…’

‘What do you want to do, show me your old set?’ Tazzie muttered, suppressing a yawn.

‘You tired, luvvie? No, I was just looking for Joey’s; I used to eat there when we had night shoots. The owner - that’s Joey himself obviously, big Italian bloke, great cook - he let me watch the footy all hours of the night, and he baked a mean pizza in the bargain… you know I could chew the crotch out of a low flyin’ vulture I’m that hungry, I was really hopin’ we could get some proper tucker at Joey’s… That stuff at that party wasn’t really my kind of…. Ah, there we are!’ He found a spot to park the car, got out, opened the door for Taz and guided her into a tiny pizza place. It was squeaky clean and the owner, who was as huge as his restaurant was small, took one look at Quent, wrung his bulk through the small opening that allowed access to behind the counter, waddled over to Quentin and engulfed him in a bear hug.

‘Finchy! What-ta-fuck you doin’ here!’ he bellowed juicily, and pounded Quent on the back.

‘Joey!’ Quent was genuinely pleased to see the guy. He’d spent some happy hours here, watching sports and munching on a slice of pizza, waiting for the rain to clear, or the rain to start, or whatever it was he’d have to wait for. Filming was ninety percent waiting, if it wasn’t more. ‘Look, Joey, I’d like you to meet my… um… This is Tazzie, um, Taryn Archer; she’s an author… she just won the APA…’

Joey shook Tazzie’s hand, which disappeared completely in his meaty paw. ‘Hi honey,’ he said, with a two-eyed wink. ‘I never seen this guy stutter around a dame before. You must be something special.’

‘I do hope so,’ Tazzie smiled a little bleakly.

Joey grinned at Quent when he heard her voice. ‘She’s a class act, with a fruity accent just like yours!’ he said merrily.

‘Well not just like his,’ Tazzie said, ‘I daresay my choice of words is not as… earthy as his.’

Quentin just stood there, grinning like an idiot. He was feeling absurdly happy, but then his stomach gave a furious growl. He looked down at himself in surprise then looked at Joey with one eyebrow hoisted up comically. ‘I was sure there was a reason why we’d have come all this way, Joey,’ he said, patting his tummy. ‘I just keep forgettin’ what the fuck it was again, whenever I look at Tazzie in that bloody amazin’ dress...’

‘Well I thought you wanted to see me! But Jesus, man, if she can make you forget about your food, she’s really something else!’ Joey laughed a full belly laugh, which was an enormous affair – both the belly and the laugh - and waddled back to his kitchen. ‘Just sit down and I’ll get you a pizza you’ll never forget,’ he said in his foghorn voice as he clanged around with pots and pans. ‘A love pie. You’ll be goin’ all night on Joey’s pizza,’ he popped his head out for an instant, ‘with my secret ingredient!’

Tazzie blushed furiously and hid against Quentin’s shoulder as he burst out laughing. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back as he laughed, then chuckled, then hummed into her hair. Christ, life was good.

‘C’mon sweetheart,’ he said, pulling her over to a table. ‘This is where I used to sit all the time when we were shooting; people couldn’t really see me from the street and I had a perfect view of the TV so I could follow the footy. Joey has a couple of dishes on the roof; reckon he can get every channel in the whole bloody world. Bit of league footy was no problem for him.’

‘Still isn’t; channel 453,’ Joey called from the kitchen.

Quentin got up and fetched the remote, and not long after he sat there watching a game and sharing a truly enormous pizza with the woman he loved. She ate the slices with her fingers, just like he did, but he could not help admiring her elegance. Not a morsel went astray. He on the other hand chomped his way through wedge after wedge, spilling mushrooms on his nice Armani dress shirt.

‘Oh Quent, you’re such a caveman,’ Tazzie admonished him. She seemed to have relaxed a bit more since they came in, and she picked a mushroom off him and popped it in her mouth. He thought his heart was going to burst at the naughty look on her face; it was completely adorable.

‘So I’ll pull you into my cave by the hair later on,’ he rumbled at her, ‘and do caveman type things.’

‘No, not my hair!’ Tazzie said in pretend shock, her eyebrows riding high up on her forehead, ‘why don’t you just ask me; you know; invite me into your cave. I’m sure I’d go in willingly.’

They laughed, and ate, and shared a large coke. Tazzie leaned against him and dozed as the pizza, which was a food group all on its own, hit the mark.

‘You wanna go, Tazzie-luv?’  Quent softly said into her hair.

She nodded. ‘I’m falling asleep, I’m sorry, that’s not very nice is it? Don’t you want to watch the end of your game?’

Quentin just smiled and helped her up, paid and thanked and tipped Joey handsomely, and got her back into the car. If he had a choice in the matter, there were several things much higher up on his priority list than watching the game, and they all involved Tazzie and a bed.

Much too soon, they reached her hotel. Quentin silently dreaded what came next: he’d probably have to say goodbye to her, and book himself a suite somewhere. In the rush and hassle of getting to New York, he just hadn’t found the time to arrange for a place to sleep. And he’d postponed it, too, knowing full well that deep down it was deliberately done: he desperately wanted to spend the night with Tazzie, hold her in his arms again, let his body confirm what his heart felt. Only he wasn’t sure she was ready and he felt a very real fear of doing something stupid, making a monumental mistake at this precarious time. If he pushed it, he’d break it. He was quite certain.

‘Home at last,’ he said to Tazzie, feeling his smile freeze on his face. Now, if she’d only ask him in with her, he’d be sorted... She stayed alarmingly quiet though, and gave him a stare that he couldn’t read.

‘You... want me to walk you to the door, Tazzie-luv?’ he asked quietly. She swallowed and nodded. She appeared tense again, and vulnerable at the same time.

Bloody hell, he really didn’t know what to do; he wanted to grab her and cuddle her and reassure her and kiss her senseless, but she seemed so torn... Quentin got out the car and opened the door for her, holding out a hand for her to grab on to. She did so and immediately a wave of pure lust swept through him; just like every other time he’d felt her touch. His knees were jelly. He held onto her hand and walked with her, just those few paces to the hotel entrance. They paused there. She didn’t let go of his hand and looked at him shyly, and he pushed his luck by suggesting, ‘...to the lift then?’

She nodded again, and seemed to grab his hand all the more tightly. They went in together and slowly made their way over to the bank of lifts in the corner. Quentin pushed the button and asked, ‘...what floor are you on?’

She stood teetering in her heels and looked very tired all of a sudden. She almost whispered, leaning against him a little, ‘tenth, I’m in ten-oh-eight...’

Ding, the lift went, and it opened its doors.

‘Well I reckon this is goodb...’ Quentin started, but then she sort of lunged forward into the car and just pulled him along by the hand. He half-stumbled in after her and managed to pluck a quick kiss off her lips as the doors closed behind him. She fully leaned against him now and lifted up her face, and he kissed her again, lazier this time, caressing her lips with his own, feeling that slow burn spread through him. Oh, please, if only he could stay with her tonight... he felt for the buttons panel and quickly cracked open one eye to see which one was tenth, then closed it again as their tongues met. She was warm honey in his hands, she was soft and sweet and...

Ding. The doors opened. Quentin blinked and reluctantly ended their kiss; that must have been the fastest lift ride he’d ever been on. Fuck. It should have lasted longer.

They stepped out onto the landing and Tazzie seemed disoriented for an instant, but then she said, ‘...oh... I’m over here,’ and she softly pulled him along the corridor to the door marked 1008. He couldn’t believe his luck.

And then she let go of his hand.

He couldn’t think of anything to say, a frozen feeling swept over him and he just stared stupidly as she fumbled for her key card in her little blue purse. So this was it then. This was where they’d say goodbye. He swallowed. Well at least he managed to kiss her again, although he was pretty certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep now, with how much he wanted her... Christ he wanted her... he leaned in towards her as she punched in her card and smelled her hair one last time. ‘Well I suppose this is goodbye then, hey?’ he whispered, his nose in her locks.

Taryn

The door handle gave and the door swung inwards a few inches when she felt more than heard Quentin’s words. She turned to him and softly said, ‘For now, yes, I think it should be... but we can stay in touch, can’t we? Even though we’ll both be busy?’ She wanted to, oh, she desperately wanted to stay in touch. She wanted to stay in touch with him all night long. But just now, in the car, he’d done it again. They were having a serious conversation and all of a sudden his mind had shifted and he was off on his own tangent again, hell-bent on finding this Joey with his tiny restaurant. Granted, it had been a wonderful pizza and a very lovely end to the evening, but still… he hadn’t even known he’d done it. That was the most worrisome part of it. He was on his best behaviour, he was really making an effort, but he just couldn’t seem to stay focused. And if he was like this where little things were concerned… Tazzie just couldn’t see how it would be any different if they’d try to make it work between them.

‘What is it, Tazzie?’ he asked her very earnestly. ‘What’s that little frown doing on your forehead? Did I do something to upset you? I can see your mind working overtime and I want to know what it is. And of course we’ll stay in touch, what do you think, I’ll ring you every day, I’ll ring you as often as I can… Fuck, Taz, tell me what I did wrong?’ he had a hand on her elbow now and leaned in so close that his nose touched her forehead. He looked and felt desperate, and worried, and still he put all of Tazzie’s senses in overdrive the moment he came close enough.

Tazzie returned the gesture - she put her hand on his arm – but she didn’t know what to say, how to put her feelings into words.

‘C’mon, tell me, or I’ll never sleep,’ he softly said, his breath whispering through her hair. He was so close now that Tazzie’s whole body zinged, and she just leaned against him again. There simply seemed to be no other option.

‘Tell me, sweetheart,’ he whispered, his arms snaking around her and pulling her closer.

‘Oh...’ Tazzie relaxed against him, relishing his solid warmth, revelling in that wholly unfounded feeling of belonging that she always felt when he held her…  She closed her eyes and heard her voice as if coming from somewhere else. ‘It’s not what you do, it’s… who you are, Quent, it’s the way your mind works... I don’t really blame you, I just feel like there’s not really any... room for anything or anyone else, no room for me... You just go your own way, and the only way to stay with you is to keep up, to follow... It really worries me, because I do... love you... so very much...’ and here, Quentin lifted up her chin again and kissed her once more, brusquely, growling with a hunger and an intensity that surprised them both.

The kiss was almost aggressive and it left them both breathless. She felt that Quent was deeply upset at her words. ‘Fuck… Taz…’ he ground out, ‘there’s no room in my mind, and my heart, for anything but you… What do you want from me, hey, what the fuck do you want me to do to show you that I’m serious about you, about us… About us getting back together… This whole night has been a fuckin’ rollercoaster ride; she wants me, she wants me not… Just make up your bloody mind, all right? I can’t become somethin’ I’m not; this is me, fuck’s sake, take it or leave it, I’m runnin’ outta bloody arguments here; I’m tryin’ as hard as I can, Taz, honestly, but if I can’t do anythin’ right in your eyes I’ll just bloody well go now, hey, I mean, Christ…’ He let his arms fall away and scowled, looked down, rubbed a foot in the thick hotel carpet and blew out his breath.

Tazzie didn’t know what to say. She felt awful. It was almost physically painful to not feel his arms around her any more, and on top of that, she felt like she deserved every word he’d said to her. She shivered and felt her eyes mist over.

Quentin looked at her from under his scowl without lifting his head, clearly expecting some sort of reply.

‘I… I’m sorry,’ Tazzie said in a small, wobbly voice. She stretched out a hand towards him. He ignored it and continued to stare at his foot digging a hole in the carpet.

‘I’m… Quent I love you but I’m scared,’ she whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks now. She could see he was biting his lip.

‘You weren’t scared at Nana,’ he muttered.

‘Yes, I was... but things were different at Nana… You were different, at Nana…’ Tazzie knew she’d probably look a fright with her make-up running like that, but there was nothing she could do to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

‘No I wasn’t,’ he softly ground out, finally looking up. ‘Inside I’m the same… It’s just my day job… this crazy world I live in…’ Seeing Tazzie in tears immediately softened his expression though, and when she extended her hand again, he took it.

Tazzie’s breath hitched and she whimpered as he pulled her close again.

‘I need you, sweetheart, I need you to keep me sane, to keep me centred… You’re like Nana to me, only I can’t take that along with me when I go to work… Won’t you trust me? Won’t you at least try? Shhh, Tazzie-luv, don’t cry, I didn’t mean to lose my rag…’

Taryn dimly thought about what he’d said, in the car, right before he’d gone off on his tangent. She knew she was being too severe on him, she knew she was being hypersensitive while he really was trying very hard… Let’s follow our hearts, he’d said… She wanted that, more than anything; she wanted to stop reasoning and just give in to the overwhelming feeling of simply being with him. She lifted her head off his shoulder and quested for his mouth, and when he noticed and turned his head, she took the initiative for another blisteringly passionate kiss.

She felt herself drown in the heat of it, only half aware of how Quent moaned her name, pushing her against the wall as he lapped at her and ground himself against her. Her hand felt for the door to her room and she inched towards it, grabbing Quentin by the lapel of his jacket.

Kissing, they fell into the room. Kissing, Quentin shoved the door shut behind her, and kissing they fell onto the enormous bed. The tenderness of their encounter in the car earlier that evening was gone now; this was pure undiluted desire, an urge too powerful to control or categorize. It just was. And it was exactly right, exactly the way it should be.

Quentin’s jacket disappeared, his shirt was half open already and Tazzie’s dress had magically exposed one exquisitely sensitive breast that quivered and rippled, the tip hardening under his hand. She sighed and fumbled at his shirt buttons, but he lost his patience, tore it open and shrugged it off. ‘Spoilt anyway with the bleedin’ mushrooms,’ he growled, and tried to find the zipper to her dress. ‘Where... how the fuck...’ he muttered impatiently.

Tazzie helped him find it and while she pulled it up over her head, sitting up on the bed, he climbed off to quickly kick off his shoes and shed his pants. He had nothing on underneath.

‘Christ Quent,’ Taz said with a gasp, ‘Don’t tell me you were... the whole evening...’

An impatient grunt was the answer as his socks were discarded, and then he dove for Tazzie, who was naked but for a pair of tiny dark blue lacy knickers.

His skin, oh, his wonderful skin against hers! They twined their limbs together with such practised ease, it was like they’d made love just yesterday, and when he reclaimed her mouth, hitched up her leg and rubbed his tip eagerly against the moistened crotch of her panties, Tazzie thought time had stood still. Maybe it had all been a bad dream, maybe they’d never been apart at all, for the last year. Maybe...

Quentin did not give her time for much more thought though. He was a man on a mission, and he rolled her on top of him, hooked a finger in the damp fabric of her knickers, pulled it aside and rolled her over once more, entering her as he did so. One swift, secure stroke, and he was sheathed to the hilt. He had her pinned to the bed, gasping, and he leaned on his elbow to look at her. His hair tie had come undone; his blond locks trailed on her skin. ‘Mine...’ he said, teeth clenched to control the stillness of his body. His eyes were boring holes into her. ‘You’re mine, Tazzie, tell me you’re mine...’

His eyes. They were so dark, they were almost black. He was so intense, so focused on her; it was as if he was trying to fight his way back in, into her heart, into her mind, into her soul. ‘I’m yours, Quent,’ she breathed, feeling her passage contract around his thickness. He filled her up completely. A tiny muscle in his jaw moved. Another spasm rippled through her cunny and he closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. ‘I always was,’ she whispered, and then he collapsed on top of her and their bodies started moving in sync as they grabbed each other tight and held on for dear life to get through a massive, shattering orgasm together.

‘Well that was quick,’ muttered Quent a little disappointedly, soon as he regained his speech.

‘But very good,’ Tazzie conceded, tenderly stroking his hair back. ‘I do hope you’ll be able to get back to your normal hair again some day soon... you look like a bloody gigolo with this.’

‘Oh thanks, luv,’ he grinned lazily, ‘really appreciate that. That’s just what my shattered confidence needed to hear. But yeah,’ his eyes were warm and full of love now, ‘it was very good.’ He kissed her face lightly, her eyebrow, her nose, her jaw, and whispered, ‘wouldn’t mind havin’ another go in a minnit...’

Tazzie kissed him back, and the soft, butterfly kisses grew longer, slower; they lingered and explored and talked a language all their own. Tazzie felt the first seeds of new lust blossom in her centre as Quent broke away from her lips to softly ask, in that irresistible little voice of his, ‘can I stay with you tonight? Tazzie-luv?’

Taz hesitated.

‘Please?’ he said, very low. ‘I want to be with you... wake up with you... please?’

‘Yes,’ said Tazzie, and she kissed him once more.

Chapter Nine

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