THE EIGHTH

The shrill of the alarm pierces my consciousness. The lack of Taylor's presence in my bed when I wake feels like déjà vu. As the reality of the day that lies ahead hits, my heart sinks. With leaden limbs I get myself into the shower, trying to blot out the image of Nonna dead on her kitchen floor that keeps resurfacing from my subconscious. It's not long before I am wrapped up in my heavy winter coat and scarf to ward off the autumn chill and pulling my case loaded up with a week's worth of my baking out the door and onto the main road to call a taxi to the station. I am just not in the mood for the bus today.

I spend the journey attempting to analyse the situation with Taylor. I can't figure out why he keeps turning up when he has categorically stated that being with me can't happen. I can't help the attraction I feel, and I get the feeling that neither can he, but there is this big issue of him being my boss. Which of course on a rational level I completely understand. However, the romantic, naïve part of me wants to shout "Sod it!" at the top of my lungs and leap into his bed, and not when I am drunk or emotionally fraught either. I just wish I could see how this would turn out; I am heading into the unknown and am terrified by the thought of what lies ahead.

My inner musings are interrupted by the train pulling into the station, and I make an effort to shelve my thoughts and focus on the day ahead. When I arrive at Nonna's, my mum and dad are waiting for me. The dark circles under both their eyes remind me that it is not just me going through this nightmare. I think in all of this I have forgotten that my mum has lost her mother, and my dad has lost the closest thing he had to a mother as well, given that his died when he was very young. Grief has etched itself on all our hearts. My parents pull me into a tight hug and then in low voices remind me that the taxi will be arriving shortly. Hurriedly I pull out my cakes and desserts, arranging those that can be left out on Nonna's table and putting the rest in the fridge for when everyone comes back later.

The day is bright but cold as Nonna's friends and family file into the crematorium. I stand at the entrance, greeting familiar faces and those I don't recognise but who obviously know who I am. It's not long before the minister motions that it is time to begin, and my mum and I make our way to the front pew. Nonna's favourite tune, 'Clair de Lune', fills the air, and I glance behind me to see my dad and the ushers bringing in Nonna's coffin. I hug my arms around myself, feeling chilled, as we all take our seats. 

I find myself tuning out most of the service as my thoughts swirl and I desperately try to calm my nerves about standing up and delivering the eulogy. I have it printed out, so it is just a case of reading it out loud, but still I am worried that I am going to say something wrong. I am startled back to the present as the kindly minister says my name. My feet feel numb as I make my way up to the lectern at the front, and all I can think of is not tripping up. I feel like I have a lump the size of a tennis ball in my throat, and when I try to speak, nothing comes out. Nervously I try to clear my throat softly, all the while shuffling my notes to buy some time. I glance around the room, attempting a watery smile, and go to speak but falter as my eyes suddenly lock on to Taylor's.

The world recedes, and all I can hear is my breathing as I take in his dark suit and tie, his spiked black hair and his dark eyes. He smiles reassuringly at me. I wonder why he is here, and then it hits me like a thunderbolt. He is here for me. 

I am jerked back to the present by a loud cough, and I make a second attempt to start my speech. Tears start to course down my face. Whether it is from grief or nerves I am not sure, but my teeth start to chatter and my hands are shaking so hard I fear that I am going to drop the papers. I don't see him move from his seat, but suddenly Taylor is at my side, gently removing the pages from my hands. He puts his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder gently, and then in a low but clear voice starts to read,

"Nonna was more than just a grandmother to me…" The tears keep falling, and I am grateful to Taylor for being there to speak my words for me. There is no way I would have got through it by myself. 

When he is finished, I am gratified to see smiles on so many people; it was the note that I had hoped to strike with my speech. A happy end to a happy life. Taylor steers me back to my seat, and as I glance at my mum, I can see the question marks in her eyes. I know she will corner me later and grill me, but at least for the moment, I am spared that torment. Taylor leaves to return to his seat, but before he drops my hand, he offers a reassuring squeeze. Just knowing he is here gives me the strength to get through the next couple of hours.

"That was beautiful, sweetheart," whispers my mum, giving my knee a squeeze. Anyone would think I am about to fall apart by the amount of 'reassuring' touches I seem to be receiving, but reluctantly I have to acknowledge that I am not far off it. The rest of the service passes in a blur, and it is not long before Nonna's coffin is disappearing through the curtains and I am forced to admit to myself that this really is goodbye. No more comforting chats over cups of strong Italian coffee and biscotti in Nonna's homely kitchen, or her unique pork meatballs and spaghetti on a Friday night, or baking up a storm on a rainy Sunday afternoon. I didn't think I could possibly shed another tear, but it appears that I am wrong as yet another river slides down my face. At least I didn't bother with mascara today.

We hurry back to Nonna's to prepare for the wake. Most people are coming straight from the service, so I immediately start percolating the coffee, plating up sandwiches and putting cakes on the large trestle we have set up in the living room. Fortunately, most people have taken their time, so we have a few minutes to regroup, giving me the chance to give my parents an impromptu hug.

"What was that for, Abs?" asks my dad with a questioning smile.

"Do I need a reason to give you guys a hug?" I retort a little too tartly. We are not the family that does random hugs, with the exception of Nonna of course, so of course this is unusual. "Sorry, I just wanted to let you guys know that I love you," I add in a conciliatory tone.

"We love you too, sweetheart," Mum adds, trying to smooth over the situation. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear and hurries to the door, the chimes of the bell interrupting our little family love-in.

Seconds turn into minutes, and before I know it several hours have passed and I am shattered, my face aching from the forced smile I have attached to my face. Every now and again, I would catch sight of Taylor, but as soon as I would go to intercept him, another of Nonna's friends would grab my arm and would want to start reminiscing. Eventually, I manage to extricate myself and slip out the back door into the small courtyard garden. The light of the afternoon is fading, and the shadows offer a good place to hide for a few minutes.

"Thirsty?" Taylor's voice startles me. I spin around to find him standing right next to me, holding up a glass of juice. I take it gratefully as I am feeling parched from all the talking. The juice is delicious and cool, soothing my vocal cords. 

"Thanks, Taylor." I smile up at him, feeling shy but curious. "Um, why are you here?" I suddenly feel like I have to get to the bottom of what is going on. "Why did you come today? Why did you come to my flat last night? I thought you didn't want me…" I trail off, realising I have said far more than I should have.

Taylor suddenly looks serious, and I find myself taking a step back. "Oh, Abby. I can't seem to stay away from you…You beguile me with your innocence, and seeing you so lost this week, well, it is all I could do to stay away." He gives me a small smile. "I wasn't very successful." Taylor moves towards me, closing the gap between us, and I find my breath hitching as my heart starts to beat its rapid tattoo in my chest. Slowly he brings his hand up and cups my cheek. "You have been fading away this week, and I couldn't stand to see you going through this alone."

I have no idea how to respond, so I stare at my feet, trying to think of something to say. Instead, Taylor tilts my chin up so that I am looking up into his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly. His serious tone is my undoing, and it is all I can do to stop myself from crying again. I take a shaky breath, trying to still myself.

"Truthfully…not really," I say in a quiet voice. I try to find the words to explain to him how I am feeling, but they just don't seem to be ready to surface. I don't know why I feel so comfortable with Taylor, but just being near him seems to calm me for the moment. My attraction to him has not gone away, but the events of the past week have pushed it to the side for a while. Taylor lowers his head and places his forehead on mine so our noses are touching. I am mesmerised by the dark, chocolaty pools of his eyes. Taylor gently strokes my cheek and murmurs, "Did you want to get out of here?"

Conflicting thoughts spill through my consciousness. I desperately want to be anywhere but here, but at the same time I don't feel like I can just walk out on my parents, today of all days. Despite this, I find myself nodding slowly. "Let me go talk to my folks," I whisper.

I am surprised when my parents simply nod and give me a kiss on my cheek. I can see the questions in their eyes as they appraise Taylor silently, but thankfully they don't say anything to embarrass me. I collect up my overnight bag—I had been planning on staying the night—and follow Taylor out to the car. We sit in silence, and soon the warmth of the car, the gentle rumble of the engine and the soothing music send me into a deep slumber.

I am woken up by Taylor brushing a stray lock of hair out of my face. I try to assess whether I have completely embarrassed myself by dribbling down my chin by discreetly wiping my face. "We're here," Taylor says quietly. I glance out the window, taking in the sight of the chocolate box cottage in front of us, surrounded by a cute cottage garden.

"Where are we?" I ask, completely disorientated.

"My house. We're in the New Forest. I guess you could call it a 'country retreat'." Taylor says this with a wriggle of his eyebrows, and I try not to giggle as the sight in front of me seems completely at odds with Taylor's personality. Before I can say anything else, he comes round to my door, opening it like a proper gentleman and helping me to my feet. As he leads me down the garden path by the hand, it feels like I am coming home, which is completely weird as Taylor is pretty much a stranger and I am going to be completely alone with him in a remote spot.

I realise that the façade of the cottage is completely deceptive as we step through the front door. Polished wood floors extend through the open-plan ground floor, only interrupted by brightly coloured rugs. The cream walls are covered with muted abstracts mirroring the colours of the rugs. Across the building, I notice that the entire side wall is made up of bifold glass doors, which let the light in through the glass and must be lovely in the summer for folding back to bring the garden in. In one corner of the living area stands a wood-burning stove surrounded by a large corner sofa, while the whole of the right-hand side is taken up by a Shaker-style kitchen, complete with another state-of-the-art range cooker, which is set into a central island. 

"I think I have a serious case of kitchen envy," I sigh. 

"I had this put in a couple of years ago when I bought the cottage and had it renovated. The cottage was seriously dingy before I got it, but I love the light that comes in now."

"This place is gorgeous. Just the kind of place I would choose for myself. It's really homely."

"I am glad you like it. I tend to come here most weekends to get out of London. Plus I have my boat not far from here."

"You sail?"

"Yeah, I have a gaff rig that I like to potter about on when I have time."

"I have no idea what that means." My face must have shown my ignorance, and Taylor smiles.

"In simple terms, it is a boat with two masts. I'll show you sometime if you like."

This is the first time Taylor has mentioned anything about the future. "That would be lovely." Taylor moves across to the kitchen, and I follow behind, hopping up onto a stool at the island.

"Would you like something to drink?" Taylor asks, going across to the fridge.

"Hmm, any chance of something alcoholic?" After the day I have had, I feel like I need something stronger than juice.

Taylor smiles at me. "Of course. What's your poison?"

"Um, I am not a big wine drinker. Do you have any vodka?"

"I know just the thing." Taylor dives into the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of Zubrowka bison grass vodka, ginger ale and some cloudy apple juice. He grabs some ice and a cocktail shaker and starts pouring the various ingredients. He pulls a funny face while shaking the cocktail, pretending to be Tom Cruise, and then with a flourish pours the drink into a tall glass in front of me. I take a small sip, unsure of what I am letting myself in for. 

"That. Is. Amazing." The cocktail slides down my throat with ease, and I slowly start to relax. Taylor opens a bottle of beer for himself and starts pulling packages out of the fridge. "I hope you are hungry. Actually, have you even eaten at all today?" Taylor suddenly stops and fixes me with a stare.

A flush creeps up my face as I realise Taylor probably already knows the answer to his question. "Um, no. I just really wasn't hungry. Too many nerves," I add hurriedly, trying to justify myself.

"You aren't veggie, are you?" Taylor asks.

"Nope, pure carnivore, that's me." 

"Excellent. Relax for the moment and I'll cook us some dinner." I watch as Taylor starts pulling out some steak fillets from the paper packaging, places them on a wooden board and starts to season them. It's not long before some new potatoes are sautéing on the hob, fresh asparagus tips are frying in butter, and carrots sprinkled in honey and sesame are roasting in the oven.

Taylor moves around the kitchen with the ease of a practised chef. It is a pleasure watching his hands; his long fingers move swiftly, and I muse at what it would be like to feel them running along my skin. As if he knows what I am thinking, Taylor glances up and winks at me. I flush, a state that I feel like I am permanently in when I am around him. I take a large gulp of my cocktail, hoping to still my nerves, but it is not long before I feel the alcohol going to my head and I start to feel a bit glassy-eyed. Fortunately, it is not long before Taylor is sliding a steaming plate in front of me. The aroma has whetted my appetite, and I suddenly feel ravenous.

Taylor rounds the island and comes to sit beside me. We eat in companionable silence for several minutes until the rumbling of my stomach starts to subside. "This is delicious. Thank you," I comment.

"You are very welcome." Taylor smiles at me, and I feel my cheeks going red again. We start chatting about inconsequential things, both of us making an effort to keep the conversation light. The combination of the cocktail, tasty food and the warmth of the fire leave me feeling soporific, and when Taylor suggests moving to the couch, I follow him readily. I sink down alongside Taylor and am surprised when he suddenly reaches down and grabs my feet, swivelling me around and tipping me back slightly onto the cushions. He quickly removes my boots and socks and with warm hands starts to massage my feet. 

The feeling is heavenly as Taylor kneads and rubs, pulling on my toes and using his knuckles in the arch of my foot. I moan out loud and notice a dark look cross Taylor's eyes. He slowly works his way up my ankle and then my calf. I start to feel a warmth spreading across my pelvis as my arousal grows, Taylor's signature citrus scent sending my senses into a spin. My breath quickens, and Taylor glances at me, reading my reaction with a heady look. He leans forward and grabs my hips, pulling me closer so that my thighs are straddling his. Taylor's eyes darken and I realise he is as aroused as I am.

We are both breathing heavily, and I can feel myself growing wet as Taylor's fingers continue their journey up my inner thigh. I lean forward, capturing Taylor's lips, bringing them down to mine. As shy as I am, my desire is forcing me to be bold, something I am not accustomed to. The kiss deepens as Taylor explores my mouth, his fingers stroking me through my trousers. Suddenly he presses down, stimulating my clitoris and sending a wave of pleasure through me. I throw my head back, which Taylor takes advantage of by trailing kisses down my throat, along with nips along my collarbone. His other hand is in my blouse, first plumping one breast and then the other. He tweaks my nipples, pleasure assaulting my senses, and I find myself grinding down onto Taylor's hand.

"Taylor," I murmur, breathless. "Oh my god…"

"Stop, Abby, not here." Taylor's rasping voice sounds harsh to my ears.

What the…? I stop and look at Taylor uncomprehendingly. What does he want from me? My passion suddenly turns to fury, and I push Taylor away.

"What the fuck, Taylor? Every time we go here, on your initiation, you turn around and push me away. What am I supposed to think? What is wrong with me?" I am breathing heavily, rant over and tears threatening once more.

Catching me by surprise, Taylor grabs my hands and pulls me in to him. I struggle to free myself, but he holds me firm. "Abby, stop it. You misunderstand me." I still. "I just meant not here on the couch. Shit, if I am going to make love to you for the first time, I want it to be more than a fumble on the living room floor!"

I look up into Taylor's eyes and see that he is telling the truth. "So…sorry," I stutter, glancing down at the floor. I am mortified. I have completely ruined things. Taylor tilts my head back and lowers his lips back to mine, kissing me gently.

"Abby, don't apologise. If anything, this whole situation is my fault. I know I have been sending you mixed messages. Even though I know I shouldn't, I just can't seem to keep my hands off you." Taylor strokes my cheek, and I find myself melting against his body. He takes me by the hand and leads me to a set of stairs that I hadn't noticed before.

"Taylor, where are we going?" My words are hesitant. I just can't seem to read Taylor when he is like this.

"To do this properly." Taylor's words are clipped, and I think that maybe he is angry with me.

"Um, sorry for ruining the mood," I say meekly.

"Don't say that," Taylor says through gritted teeth. "It is taking pretty much all my self-control not to just fuck you right here on the stairs." Oh my, that makes me feel hot all over. Not sure what to say, I simply follow him up the rest of the stairs, my heart hammering in my chest.

Taylor leads me into his bedroom, and I barely have a moment to take in my surroundings and the plush carpet under my feet when Taylor turns and pulls me into his arms. He stares at me with heavy eyes, and I feel mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze. Very slowly he starts to place the lightest of kisses along my jawline. His hands come up to caress my face as I find myself bringing my mouth to his. I moan into Taylor's mouth as my arousal starts to ramp up once again. Tentatively I bring my hands up to his chest and unbutton his shirt. I push the fabric off Taylor's broad shoulders and run my fingers lightly through the soft hair that covers his chest. I am no longer thinking straight; I am simply a mass of urges that are driving me to be bolder than I could ever imagine I could be.

Taylor's hands move down, and while one hand cups my bottom, bringing me in closer, the other is loosening my trousers and slipping down into my panties. I gasp as his cool, deft fingers find their way into my aching pussy. "You are so wet, Abs." He strokes my clit; the sparks of pleasure shooting through me cause me to cling onto Taylor's arms. The sensations take over, and I can feel myself tightening around Taylor's fingers as he alternates between plunging deep inside of me and stroking me across my sensitive nub. I am not sure I can take any more when, without warning, my muscles clench and I am seeing stars.

As I slowly become aware of myself again, I realise I am on the bed and Taylor is lying next to me, staring down with a smile. "Hey," Taylor says softly, leaning down to kiss me.

"Um, wow." My voice is raspy. 

"It's just the beginning, baby." Taylor gives me a wicked grin as he starts pulling off my top and bra, my trousers and panties having disappeared in the throes of my orgasm. He has shed his own shirt completely and pulls off his trousers in one fluid movement. I find myself gasping as I eye the bulge in his boxers. I reach down and slip my hand into his shorts and wrap my hand around the shaft of Taylor's penis. As I feel the heavy length in my hand, I feel daunted at the thought of something so large inside of me. As if sensing my doubt, Taylor tilts my chin to look at him and then brings his lips crushing down on mine. Once again I can feel my arousal mounting as we become a writhing mass of limbs and sensations. 

Taylor alternates between teasing my nipples with sharp nips and running his tongue across the oversensitive nubs. The tension in my body rises, and I am dimly aware that my moans of pleasure have changed to a begging tone. The throbbing ache between my legs is making me feel a need that I have never had before. I hear the sound of foil ripping, and I glance down to see Taylor expertly pulling a condom on. Taylor gently moves between my thighs, keeping his weight on his elbows as he slides into me. "Are you okay?" Taylor asks as he notices my wince at the sharp pain I suddenly feel. I nod shyly, not wanting to admit to my limited experience. Taylor starts to move slowly and the pain fades quickly, to be replaced with wave after wave of pleasure. As the pace increases, I feel myself starting to come apart in Taylor's arms. "Come for me, baby." Four little words tip me over the edge, and I am falling. I feel Taylor explode inside of me, and then he slowly comes to a still, panting hard.

"You okay, Abs?" Taylor smoothes my hair back off my face. I nod, trying to find my voice but struggling to articulate what I feel.

"All good." I smile shyly, aware that Taylor is still inside of me. Very gently he eases out of me, never breaking eye contact. With a quick movement, Taylor disposes of the condom and then wraps his arms around me. I can feel him smiling as he plants light kisses on my cheek. We lie in silence for a few moments, and while I struggle to think of something to say, exhaustion claims me and the world fades out.