I tried a protest, despite all that. “Surely you can manage without me, a small box like that.” What was in it, anyway? A clutch of sweatbands? A few tiny T-shirts, only fit for an Alec-sized chest? It was barely big enough for a set of coffee mugs—oh! but maybe they sent one with their sponsor logo on it and we could have hot chocolate together, instead of having to prance about like catwalk Barbies—?
But, no. I should be so lucky. Alec tipped up the box and out fell a half dozen pairs of flip flops, all ready for the beach, patterned with zigzags, sunbursts, citrus fruits, and plenty of other silly stuff that made my vision blur. Also, a deceptively huge pile of sparkly, jewelled strands, which tumbled everywhere, all over the table. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets. They were decorated with charms, everything from cocktail umbrellas to starfish to dolphins. Like we get any of those in this part of Clapham on a late Wednesday in December. It’d be more like acrylic nail bars, fried chicken, and cash converters. But Alec was a picture of ecstasy as he rifled through them. Mouth open with excitement, the strings of light reflected in his widening pupils.
“Oh! So lovely.” He snatched up a handful and piled them onto his wrists. “Look, Gray! The charms clip onto the flip flops so you can change your style whenever you like. And there are ankle bracelets as well, to match! That’s so fashionable in the summer months.”
December, remember? But I sighed and smiled. He seemed to have that effect on me, the minute I was in the same room. All the grumpiness, shed in a pile of glittery goo at my feet. The footwear looked cheap, and some of the pairs didn’t match in size, But Alec obviously adored the blingy stuff. And I’d admitted I liked it too, right? At least, on him. Personally, I wasn’t so sure about it on my arms and legs. I never got much of a tan in the summer, and I mean, whose feet were items of beauty…?
You guessed it. Alec’s were. He’d toed off his slippers faster than you could say paddling pool, wriggled into a pair of the flip flops, then had toe rings and ankle bracelets fastened on before I could say how much I admired his smooth bare legs. Or wanted them wrapped one day around my hips…
“Your turn!” he crowed. Next minute, my jeans were off, and I was thanking God I was wearing my better quality boxers. Then, suddenly, he was on his knees at my feet, drying my toes with an impossibly soft towel. And, when I glanced down, full of apology for the fact I didn’t even know how to spell pedicure, and I knew I had very hairy calves… Alec had gone very still, his mouth pursed, his cheeks pink, and his delicate fingers stroking my feet. Stroking.
“You’re so sexy, Gray,” he sighed. “Do you mind me saying that?”
Did I…? Blimey. Of course I didn’t mind, but I couldn’t have answered either way, because he’d struck me speechless. His hands slid slowly up my calves—the hairy ones I thought no one but my mother would ever love—and up to my stocky thighs, which quivered rather embarrassingly with excitement, moving on towards the hem of my boxers, and then—
The alarm on his laptop went off.
“O-M-G!” He leaped gracefully to his feet and ran to the screen. In an instant, he was into his online persona. He cued up a background track that sounded like that Twelve Days pop song but to a techno beat, turned on a desktop disco.
There was a T-shirt on the sofa that was similar to his glittery one, but maybe a bit bigger. Okay. I didn’t need to be told twice: I hauled off my shirt and wriggled into it. I don’t think it was one of his creations, but luckily it was inoffensive enough, and didn’t cripple my chest expansion too much.
And, yes. What can I say, except what followed was, of course, at Alec’s request? I struggled into a pair of pink, mismatched flip flops—the only ones approaching my size. And I accepted a sarong-type thing from him to wear, to cover my boxers. It was made of some kind of velveteen fabric that clung deliciously around my legs.
“The charms are removable,” Alec was saying, jingling his bracelets at the screen. “And match the ones I have right now on my flip flops. I think the palm trees are my favourite, I love a sandy beach that’s close to the trees.” He giggled at something someone was writing. “Oh, fancyBabe, what are you like? Thank you, I’m glad you think they suit me. I try to look cute for you all, you know that. And yes, CoffeeKid, of course the flip flops could cope with a beach party! You… oh, you want a demonstration?” He didn’t turn to me, but I saw his shoulders stiffen. “You may just be lucky! My Personal Santa is visiting me again today. And if he’s a gentleman, as I hope he is, and also a lovely mover, which I know he is…”
He did, did he?
“He may take me for a spin!”
I may—what? But, next minute, Alec was in my arms and whirling me around the bare floor of his unit in some kind of disco dance. I had no time to complain, but if it meant holding him closer, why would I? I wasn’t much of a dancer but he made it very easy to move with his guidance, even when I kept tripping over the clumsy plastic shoes. The disco light scattered multi-coloured spots around his hair and face, then over his shoulders and back. It caught the bangles as he swung his arms around my neck, then away again, teasing me. I refused a pair of swinging palm tree charms he wanted me to wear as earrings, but when he hooked one mischievously from his diamond stud, I relented and let him perch the other onto one of my gold hoops.
It was all about letting him have his fun, I realised suddenly. That meant my fun, too.
He paused at the laptop to check comments as we passed it on each rotation, and laughed almost all the time. It was contagious: I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a daft, fun time—the last time I’d let myself go. We danced for many minutes, jiggling our feet so the bracelets glittered and shone. I slipped my foot from the flip flop and ran my bare toes up his calf, on one of our sweeps past the sofa. He sucked in a breath and pressed close.
“Hold me tighter,” he whispered, eyes heavy-lidded.
“You are so gorgeous. I don’t want to let you go,” I murmured in his still-oh-so-biteable ear. “What were you grinning about just now?”
“Only some of the comments,” he said, a little breathless.
“On your channel? What are they saying?” I had a sudden moment of panic. “They can’t hear us now?”
“Oh no. It’s just typed. All they can hear is the music unless I turn my mic back on. But I’m still meant to be broadcasting, so I ought to answer a few of them.” He paused at the desk as we passed again. Chuckling, he pressed a button. “Oh cherryB, that’s really cheeky. But yes, he has been a great help this week. And yes, I think he should join me on the podcast all the time. What do the rest of you think—?”
“Alec!” I hissed. I shook my head so hard I thought it’d snap off at the neck.
But he was still reading. He pinked up at the next comment, and I felt an unreasonable spike of jealousy that someone else was bringing that colour to his cheeks instead of me.
“Oh no, BlingTastic, we’re just friends.” He nodded, replying into the mic, eyes twinkling. “Well, no, maybe I wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean anything’s going on. You are very naughty.”