Warhol's Prophecy

16

HAILEY STOOD BENEATH the shower spray, eyes closed, the jets of water stinging her skin. She adjusted the temperature slightly, reached for the soap and began smoothing it over her body.

She’d arrived home less than twenty minutes ago and headed straight upstairs for a shower. She had another hour before having to pick up Becky from school.

There had been a couple of messages on the answer-phone, but she’d decided to leave them until afterwards.

Now she stood beneath the spray, an image of Adam Walker imprinted on her mind.

Their parting had been awkward, almost clumsy. Both of them standing outside Tivoli’s looking at each other, wondering what to do next. How to conclude their meeting. Hailey had wondered for brief, ridiculous seconds if she should shake hands with him.

Finally she had leant forward and kissed him gently on the cheek, thanking him for meeting her for lunch.

He had seemed a little reluctant to leave her then, offering to walk her back to her car. She had declined.

She’d kissed him again on the cheek, then turned and walked away, though wanting to look back in his direction. Even now she wondered why she hadn’t.

Frightened he wouldn’t have been still looking at you?

Because she knew that was what she wanted.

She had wanted to turn and see him looking longingly after her.

She had wanted him to be attracted to her, wanted him to desire her.

Wanted him to want her.

As she wanted him?

As she soaped her breasts she felt her nipples stiffen and she worked the soap into the hard buds, her other hand gliding down her belly into the wet curls of her pubic mound. Then beyond to the warm moisture between her thighs.

She tried for a moment to push his image from her mind, but then decided not to. She wanted that sight in her subconscious. Wanted to think of him looking at her. To think of him touching her.

Her breathing became deeper as her index finger began to gently stroke around her clitoris. She stepped back so that the jets of water struck her hips and upper thighs, their stinging sensation pleasing, adding to the pleasure she was already feeling from the movement of her fingers.

What are you doing?

Her eyes snapped open and she pulled her hand away from her swollen labia, as if ashamed of the sensations she felt there.

What are you doing?

She switched off the shower and stood motionless in the cubicle, droplets of water still falling from the shower head, plopping into puddles on the tiles beneath her feet.

Hailey listened to her own harsh breathing for a moment longer, then stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dried herself hurriedly.

She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt, stepped into trainers and hurried downstairs.

As Hailey walked into the kitchen, her breathing was now slowing slightly. Her heart was still thudding against her ribs, and she felt that warmth between her legs as insistent as unconsummated desire.

She took a glass from the draining board, spun a tap and filled it. Swallowed the contents. Drank another glass.

Get a grip.

She wandered out into the hall to check the messages on the answerphone.

One from her mother: would Hailey call her back?

Another from Caroline Hacket: call her when she got a minute.

Hailey looked at her watch. Time to pick up Becky.

She sucked in one last breath, held it, then let it out slowly, satisfied that she had regained control.

Ten minutes to drive to the school. Becky would be kept waiting otherwise.

Hailey walked out, shutting the front door behind her.

Inside the house, the phone began to ring again.