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There is a God and his name is Richie

There is a God and his name is Richie

Monday 9 February 2009

Chapter Nine

Richie suddenly had his arms full of warm woman as Erin came flying round the corner and nearly bowled him over. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her to steady her. He could smell her wonderful dry smoky scent and breathed in deeply, feeling the softness of her hair and body as she fitted against him. For a few seconds until his brain kicked in he felt at peace.

Erin found she had her face pressed against a broad, taut, warm chest, covered with a soft tee shirt. She could feel his muscular arms around her and sighed softly. He smelt of freshly washed clothes and sun warmed skin. For a few seconds until her klutz monitor kicked in she felt secure.

“Oh god, Richie, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” she stammered, pulling away from him.

“That’s ok darlin’ I didn’t see you either.” he smiled down at the petite woman he’d just been holding and wondered what he’d need to do to hold her again.

“I was..”

“I was…”

They both spoke at once.

Erin motioned for Richie to speak first.

“I was coming to ask if you wanted a coffee. I was on the way downstairs to get you to make some when I heard voices, figured you were on the phone and came to see if I could make you a coffee instead.”

Erin was so touched by this that she just smiled at him, at first.

“I’d love a coffee but I’ll make it for us.” she said.

“I don’t mind making it.” he countered.

“You don’t know how it works, remember?”

“Ah…good point.” he conceded, allowing her to lead him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Come on, I’ll give you a lesson in how to use a coffee machine.” she smiled as she walked down the stairs barefoot, her skinny jeans highlighting her slim figure, along with the baby tee she was wearing, with the slogan
‘1% Angel, 99% Power Hungry Bitch’

Richie was impressed. He’d only ever seen her in baggy jeans or sweat pants and had begun to believe she didn’t own anything more suited to showing off her curves.

He followed her into the kitchen, his eyes straying to her backside more than once.

“Ok, this is the coffee machine.” she smiled as she pointed out the black machine.

“That much I know.” he intoned, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips.

“Good, then you won’t get it mixed up with the bread maker next to it and end up with a soggy loaf…” she said, dryly, smirking back at him.

Richie sniggered and moved to stand closer to her. The more he got to know her the more he was discovering her quirkiness and found himself liking it.

“Right, “ she started again, “lift this lid," she indicated a large lid atop the machine, “and place a filter paper in it, then put the coffee grounds into it.”

Richie watched as she patiently went through the motions of how to use the coffee maker, not having the heart to admit he already knew how to use it but was just too damn lazy to actually do it himself.

“Right, once you’ve added the coffee then fill up the pot with cold water and pour the water into this bit here. Put the coffee pot back onto the hot plate and switch it on. That’s it really, it’s not rocket science.” She looked up at him and grinned, a sly giggle emanating from her.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, smiling down at her. She really was quite a short person and at 5ft 4ins meant he could rest his arm on her head, if he’d wanted too, of course.

“Oh nothing really, it’s just that if Gwen could see this she’d be totally shocked.”

“Gwen?”

“My best friend. I’ve known her for about 25 years, ever since the first year of school and she’s one of your biggest fans. If she could see me teaching you, one of her all time guitar heroes how to make fresh coffee she’d probably batter me around the head for being so cheeky and presumptuous.”

“I don’t think you’re cheeky.” he said, looking at her, thinking smiling suited her much better than crying did.

He paused, looking at the coffee pot, then looked back to her, “Does that mean you’re not one of my fans then?” he asked, grinning at her.

Erin scowled at him, knowing he’d put her in a corner.

“Erm, well…,” she prevaricated looking everywhere but at him, before looking him in the eye, “I used to like your music but was never really a fan as such. Gwen was the fan and she would drag me along to your concerts. Sorry…” she shrugged, smiling.

“Ah well, can’t win ‘em all I guess.” he laughed, “So who were you into? When you were growing up?” he asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter, smelling the fresh coffee brewing.

“I was a new romantic.” she said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail and securing it with an elastic band she’d had round her wrist.

“Oh good god!” he laughed, “Don’t tell me you were into frills and pixie boots and those stupid haircuts.” he grinned, enjoying the conversation. It had been such a long time since he’d had a conversation with someone that hadn’t included how much money he’d earned over the years, or why he’d gotten divorced and he was really enjoying it and, judging by the way Erin had casually leant against the counter, she was too.

“You can talk about stupid hairstyles! I swear you used to look like you had a pineapple glued to your head, “ she laughed, sticking her tongue out at him, “and don’t even get me started on the dead badger that Alec used to model his hair on,” she scrutinised his hair and reached out to touch a silky strand, “hmm, much better.”

Erin suddenly realised how close they were to each other and the fact that she had, effectively, just run her fingers through his hair. She froze as she felt his lips brush hers. She closed her eyes and allowed his tongue to sweep over her top lip. The coffee machine beeped behind her and, her eyes flying open, she turned quickly, just about remembering to let go of his hair as she did so.

“Oh coffee’s ready.” she said in an overly bright voice to hide the tremor she felt, “I love fresh coffee, I love it’s smell and the taste, you really can’t beat the taste,” she babbled as she poured out two mugs. She picked up her mug.

“Well, I think I’ll go and watch TV. Good night.” she practically ran from the kitchen.

Richie watched her leave and picking up his mug took a sip.

“Shit.” he swore softly.

1 comment:

  1. LMAO at the "dead badger" remark, and Oooh... a little interesting spark there. Richie, go make nice without making her feel like shit!

    ~ Hath

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