Post by James G on Feb 13, 2018 20:53:50 GMT
One
Laura Brown did her duty and did it well. She gave an Oscar-winning performance. An actress she was, just not one on the silver screen. Paul was done and rolled away to the other side of the bed while she climbed out and walked to the bathroom. The door was pulled closed behind her, leaving here all alone. That was just the way she wanted it. The mirror was avoided as she went and sat on the loo. Her gaze was purposely averted from it’s reflection.
She didn’t want to see what it would depict.
Paul Covington MP would soon be asleep. His parliamentary assistant, and lover too, waited.
It wasn’t a patient wait. Laura had left her bloody phone behind. She always took it into the bathroom with her. Not tonight… well, this morning.
“Fool.”
Without knowing how long she’d been away – just why didn’t Paul have a clock in his bedroom? –, Laura just winged it. She slid around the bathroom door that she ever-so-carefully opened, like it was explosive or wired up to a buzzer if she gave it a real knock, but it was one to creak at the most inopportune moments, and went back to the bed. Her clothes, maybe his, were walked across. No, that was one of his. The woolly jumper Paul wore when at his London home because his mum had given it to him for that purpose was trodden underfoot. The lights were out and the curtain closed.
Laura took a leap of faith and ran her hand atop what she could only presume was the beside table judging by the shadows. Was it there?
Oh, yes it was.
Phone found.
She’d congratulate herself another time.
Rather than get back into bed, Laura crouched down on the floor and sent an instant message. The glare of the screen lit up the room. It wasn’t a flashlight but it was getting that way! Fingers tapped the screen in a rapid motion to compose what she had in her head though there was an edit in order when the last part was wrong. It was late, far too late to be typing a coded message.
Off that message went. It undertook the miracle of modern communications and went to a recipient far away.
The phone went back on that table beside the bed. Her eyes had adjusted to the light better now.
She could make out his phone too, sitting beside hers. Everything that was on that, everything that was new, had already been hoovered up by hers and had undertaken a trip with her sent message.
There was no need for her to do any more.
One item of her clothes was found so she could sleep in them. A short hunt with her hands and her eyes straining in the darkness located them. Laura stood up, did what she needed to, and then turned and slipped into bed. Paul murmured. He didn’t move, he made his odd sound but nothing more.
Sleep.
Paul was an early riser. He was twice her age, he’d said before, and therefore he needed less sleep than her. It was the type of thing he’d say with a wink and an arrogant smile. Laura was certain that he had done that when he’d first told her that along with every other time afterwards. That was Paul all over. He repeated himself and he was arrogant.
A politician all over.
There was a busy day in Parliament and he’d see her there. It was before six when he shooed her out of the back door of the house where there was a black cab waiting. He’d called it for her while she was getting into yesterday’s clothes. Laura had also braved a look in the mirror. All she saw was someone who had less than three hours sleep. The woman who did what she did, lied in what she said and how she lived her life, wasn’t there this morning. It was just someone who needed to fix her face, her hair and her clothes.
The taxi driver wouldn’t care and her flatmate would be asleep. Laura had much to when she got home and before she got to work, also in Westminster where she’d see Paul again before his committee meeting.
The cab was parked at the kerb. Laura stepped out of the door, rushing just as Paul wanted her to.
She caught sight of a man walking his dog, a man she’d hadn’t seen before. This wasn’t her first time doing this at this time and a dog-walker usually kept the same routine, especially on a weekday morning at such an hour as this.
Who was he? She tried to focus on him…
“Laura?”
“Yes?” Forgetting her training, all of that work put into making Laura Brown the actress she was, went out of the window. Her instructors wouldn’t be best pleased: she’d been their most promising student, or so they’d said.
Paul pulled her towards him. A kiss? No, not here on his doorstep, even at the rear of his house. You never knew who was about. Some things Paul could explain away, other things not. A kiss wouldn’t be one of them. He was too careful, Laura reminded herself, far too careful to be compromised. Or so he believed anyway. She’d listened to recordings of him talking to someone else about how careful he was with her away from watching eyes.
His lips were beside her ear.
“I know you’re a spy.” A pause. “A honeytrap.” His grip on her forearms tightened for a moment then eased in another. “I don’t care either.”
He released her and stepped back inside the doorway before that door closed all in one dramatic movement.
That arrogant smile had been there. Paul was proud of himself it seemed.
Turn and walk away.
Laura followed the internal command inside her head. No, her knees didn’t wobble. No, she didn’t want to go back and confront him about what he’d said. She went to the cab and got inside. The driver asked where she wanted him to go. Laura didn’t tell him ‘far away from here’ but instead gave him her address. The cab pulled away from the curb.
The man walking his dog was there on the other side of the road. The animal chose that moment to do its business and the man realised that he didn’t have a poop-bag.
Laura Brown did her duty and did it well. She gave an Oscar-winning performance. An actress she was, just not one on the silver screen. Paul was done and rolled away to the other side of the bed while she climbed out and walked to the bathroom. The door was pulled closed behind her, leaving here all alone. That was just the way she wanted it. The mirror was avoided as she went and sat on the loo. Her gaze was purposely averted from it’s reflection.
She didn’t want to see what it would depict.
Paul Covington MP would soon be asleep. His parliamentary assistant, and lover too, waited.
It wasn’t a patient wait. Laura had left her bloody phone behind. She always took it into the bathroom with her. Not tonight… well, this morning.
“Fool.”
Without knowing how long she’d been away – just why didn’t Paul have a clock in his bedroom? –, Laura just winged it. She slid around the bathroom door that she ever-so-carefully opened, like it was explosive or wired up to a buzzer if she gave it a real knock, but it was one to creak at the most inopportune moments, and went back to the bed. Her clothes, maybe his, were walked across. No, that was one of his. The woolly jumper Paul wore when at his London home because his mum had given it to him for that purpose was trodden underfoot. The lights were out and the curtain closed.
Laura took a leap of faith and ran her hand atop what she could only presume was the beside table judging by the shadows. Was it there?
Oh, yes it was.
Phone found.
She’d congratulate herself another time.
Rather than get back into bed, Laura crouched down on the floor and sent an instant message. The glare of the screen lit up the room. It wasn’t a flashlight but it was getting that way! Fingers tapped the screen in a rapid motion to compose what she had in her head though there was an edit in order when the last part was wrong. It was late, far too late to be typing a coded message.
Off that message went. It undertook the miracle of modern communications and went to a recipient far away.
The phone went back on that table beside the bed. Her eyes had adjusted to the light better now.
She could make out his phone too, sitting beside hers. Everything that was on that, everything that was new, had already been hoovered up by hers and had undertaken a trip with her sent message.
There was no need for her to do any more.
One item of her clothes was found so she could sleep in them. A short hunt with her hands and her eyes straining in the darkness located them. Laura stood up, did what she needed to, and then turned and slipped into bed. Paul murmured. He didn’t move, he made his odd sound but nothing more.
Sleep.
Paul was an early riser. He was twice her age, he’d said before, and therefore he needed less sleep than her. It was the type of thing he’d say with a wink and an arrogant smile. Laura was certain that he had done that when he’d first told her that along with every other time afterwards. That was Paul all over. He repeated himself and he was arrogant.
A politician all over.
There was a busy day in Parliament and he’d see her there. It was before six when he shooed her out of the back door of the house where there was a black cab waiting. He’d called it for her while she was getting into yesterday’s clothes. Laura had also braved a look in the mirror. All she saw was someone who had less than three hours sleep. The woman who did what she did, lied in what she said and how she lived her life, wasn’t there this morning. It was just someone who needed to fix her face, her hair and her clothes.
The taxi driver wouldn’t care and her flatmate would be asleep. Laura had much to when she got home and before she got to work, also in Westminster where she’d see Paul again before his committee meeting.
The cab was parked at the kerb. Laura stepped out of the door, rushing just as Paul wanted her to.
She caught sight of a man walking his dog, a man she’d hadn’t seen before. This wasn’t her first time doing this at this time and a dog-walker usually kept the same routine, especially on a weekday morning at such an hour as this.
Who was he? She tried to focus on him…
“Laura?”
“Yes?” Forgetting her training, all of that work put into making Laura Brown the actress she was, went out of the window. Her instructors wouldn’t be best pleased: she’d been their most promising student, or so they’d said.
Paul pulled her towards him. A kiss? No, not here on his doorstep, even at the rear of his house. You never knew who was about. Some things Paul could explain away, other things not. A kiss wouldn’t be one of them. He was too careful, Laura reminded herself, far too careful to be compromised. Or so he believed anyway. She’d listened to recordings of him talking to someone else about how careful he was with her away from watching eyes.
His lips were beside her ear.
“I know you’re a spy.” A pause. “A honeytrap.” His grip on her forearms tightened for a moment then eased in another. “I don’t care either.”
He released her and stepped back inside the doorway before that door closed all in one dramatic movement.
That arrogant smile had been there. Paul was proud of himself it seemed.
Turn and walk away.
Laura followed the internal command inside her head. No, her knees didn’t wobble. No, she didn’t want to go back and confront him about what he’d said. She went to the cab and got inside. The driver asked where she wanted him to go. Laura didn’t tell him ‘far away from here’ but instead gave him her address. The cab pulled away from the curb.
The man walking his dog was there on the other side of the road. The animal chose that moment to do its business and the man realised that he didn’t have a poop-bag.
