Chapter 5

Sara woke slowly, stretching as she opened her eyes to look over at her alarm clock. Six am. No wonder she felt so good - she’d slept well over twelve hours. She rolled to the edge of the bed, still feeling a slight tenderness from yesterday’s unaccustomed exertions, and got out of bed. Her robe hung near the bed and she pulled it on as she wandered through to the bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror as she perched on the toilet. Strange. She didn’t look any different, but she felt different today. Standing, she turned on the shower and left the water to heat while she popped through to the kitchen to switch on the coffee machine. While it started to gurgle, Sara showered, luxuriating in the scent of her favourite shower gel, taking her time for once, instead of rushing out of the house, late for something. Quickly, she clipped her fingernails short and filed them smooth, remembering the problems she’d had with her guitar the previous evening.

Wrapped cosily in a fluffy bathrobe, her hair swathed in a towel, Sara poured herself her first mug of coffee - always the best one of the day. She sniffed it appreciatively, then took a drink and began to look for something to eat. The cupboard, unfortunately, was bare, as was the fridge, so she decided to treat herself to breakfast on the way to the studio. She topped up her mug and went through to the bedroom, where she braided her wet hair into two long pigtails behind her ears then went in search of clothes. The heat was already building steadily, so she decided shorts would be the best idea, and found her favourite pair of cut-off jeans and pulled them on - this time remembering to put on her underwear. A black cami with an old t-shirt which bore the words “Miss B. Haven” over the top, her battered old sandals, and she was ready to go. The remaining coffee went into a travel mug, then she collected her bag and left the house, jumping into her car.

She drove most of the way to work, amazed at how many people were around this early, and pulled into the little mall near the studio, where she bought a bag of pastries for breakfast, and some more milk. Another few minutes driving, then she parked at her building and headed upstairs, carrying her purchases, and this time managing to get up the stairs and into her studio without dropping anything. She started the coffee brewing then tore open the bag of pastries, dumping them onto a plate, and chewing on one as she found her I-Pod and dropped it into the little dock, just letting it play randomly as she ate.

Jon had also woken early, easing out of bed without waking Dot and heading downstairs for coffee. He took his mug outside, enjoying the cool morning, then went back inside to shower and dress. So far, Dot hadn’t noticed the fingernail marks on his back, and he was hoping to keep it that way! By seven thirty, he was sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast, when first Dot, then the kids, appeared. He kissed them all good morning - all except the oldest boy, who was too old for all that sissy stuff - and started pouring juice for everybody.

“You’re ready early.” Dot observed, and Jon nodded.

“Mmm - couldn’t sleep, so I was as well getting up.” He looked at his watch - nearly eight o’clock now. “I’d better get going. I’ll see you later.” he kissed Dot “You guys have a good day,” he told the kids as they variously smiled and nodded at him, mouths full. He felt the twinge of guilt again as he left the house and climbed into his car, driving away slowly as he searched for his sunglasses.

Sara was stuffed. Sitting in the armchair reading a book, her feet on the table, she’d eaten four pastries, and was halfway through a fifth when she heard a knock on the door. Eight thirty - must be the mailman, she thought. He was an older guy, one of those who liked to chat to all ‘his people’, and he’d always try the door before leaving the mail in the box outside. He said it was to stop mail going missing, but Sara reckoned he was just lonely and liked making conversation.

“Just a minute” she yelled, standing up with pastry in hand. Well, it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.

She tried to unlock the door one-handed, but her fingers were slick with grease and frosting, so eventually, as the knocking started again, she stuck the pastry in her mouth to free both hands. Pulling the door open, she took the pastry out of her mouth, saying ‘Morning’ before looking up at, not the mailman, but Jon.

“Oh! You’re early” was all she could think to say, stepping aside to let him in, then closing the door behind him. “Sorry - I thought you were the postman.”

“S’okay. Good morning to you.” he smiled, then reached out to tear off a piece of the pastry, taking a bite. “Hey, that’s good. Got any more?”

Sara had expected to feel awkward with Jon this morning, but his easy manner and ready smile put her at ease. For his part, Jon had promised himself during the drive over that he would really try not to pressure Sara, and would try to keep himself in check. Then, of course, she opens the door with pigtails, he thought, and it was all he could do to keep his hands off her.

“Over on the table. D’you want coffee?”

“Mmm - thanks.” Jon made for the table as Sara went into the kitchen to pour more coffee. As he sat on the couch, smiling at the memories it evoked, Jon looked at the blue guitar, seeing the wear on the fret board, and wondered where Sara had found it. It certainly looked well-used.

“Do you mind if I leave the music on?” Sara asked, pausing by the table.

“That depends! What are you listening to?”

“Oh, there’s a mixture on there.” She turned up the volume slightly as one of her current favourites started to play, and Jon raised his eyebrows at the opening lyrics, ‘oh, my name it is nothin…..’.

“With God on Our Side? Bob Dylan?”

“Mm-hm. I like older music - Dylan, The Doors, Rolling Stones….”

“Not what I expected. Yeah - leave it on.”

She brought Jon his coffee, and took a seat on the armchair again, picking at the remains of her pastry, then dropping it onto her plate, licking the frosting off her fingers. Jon looked away from her darting tongue, struggling to keep his ass sitting on the couch, and forcing himself not to go over there and grab her, much as he wanted to. He had to bite his lip to prevent himself asking if he could lick it off for her, recalling his vow not to push too hard.

“So - how are you this morning?” Jon asked, selecting a pastry from the plate.

“Oh, I’m fine. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m good. But, I meant, how are you? I mean, are you okay?”

Sara blushed. “Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. A little bit………”

“Sore?”

She wrinkled her nose, “Not exactly sore. Tender, maybe, but I’m okay.” She brushed crumbs off her bare legs. “Well, we’ve got quite a lot to do today. As you can see, I found the guitar, and I even checked the fridge for beer.”

“Too early for beer!” Jon joked, picking up the guitar. “Where did you get this? Looks like it’s seen a bit of use.”

“Oh, it’s mine. I’ve had it for years. Just don’t get time for it much now.”

Jon grinned. “Cute, talented, and she plays guitar? The perfect woman.”

“I wouldn’t call it playing! Playing around maybe, but I’ve more enthusiasm than skill.”

Plucking at the strings, Jon looked over. “Where do you want to start then?”

“May as well start with the guitar. Are you happy to stick with what you’re wearing?”

Jon looked down at his black jeans and Philly Soul t-shirt. “I guess so - is it okay for you?”

“Yep. Fine.” Sara went over to the worktable for her camera, and Jon smiled at the sight of her long legs disappearing into the tight denim shorts. ‘Lucky shorts’ he thought, watching the way the denim clung lovingly to her ass. He started to pick out a tune on the guitar, stopping as Sara came around in front of him again.

“No, carry on.” She said, “Might be nice to get some shots of you playing, too.” So he carried on softly playing and Sara snapped a few photos like that, then asked him to hold the guitar up vertical, and took a few more photos.

“Do you mind if I get you a different shirt?” She asked, “I don’t want all the shots to look the same.”

“Fine - I’m in your hands - do with me what you will, Sara.”

She grinned and disappeared through to the bedroom, where she took a few shirts off the clothing rack, bringing them back into the main room with here. As she walked in, Jon was in the process of stripping off his shirt, standing with his back to her, and she gasped as she saw the red half-moon marks of her fingernails on his back.

“Oh God! Did I do that?”

A muffled ‘huh?’ came from Jon, as he had the t shirt wrapped around his head. He pulled it off, throwing his hair into wild disarray, but with the shirt still caught around his elbows.

“Oh, don’t move!” Sara grabbed for her camera and, moving around to the side a little, to avoid the marks on his back, she took a series of photos of Jon as he stood with the shirt half-off. “Okay, sorry! That just looked really good. Did I make those marks on your back?”

“Uh-huh, you certainly did! War wounds from a wildcat.” He smirked at her, laughing as she blushed again, then took the shirt she was offering and pulled it on.

Jon was amazed by Sara’s intensity, as they worked for most of the morning, using different shirts and different poses. She was completely different, even from her professionalism of the previous morning, and she worked quickly and efficiently through the shots she’d planned, Jon finding himself almost as turned on by her dedication to detail and perfection as he was by her pigtails. They finally broke for coffee and the remaining pastries nearly four hours later, just after twelve, when both their stomachs started to make it very clear that they were empty.

“What’s next?” asked Jon, devouring a sticky pastry.

“I think there are only a couple more shots I wanted to work with.” Sara replied, “The one with you kind of half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, and the beer and shower one. Figured to leave that until last. Oh, I’d also like to reshoot the ones I did yesterday, when you were by the window. Couple of little changes to the pose I’d like to try.”

Jon nodded agreeably, then looked at her t shirt. “I’ve been trying to read that all morning! What does it say?”

Sara stretched the fabric away from her, looking down at the text. “It says…..‘Miss B. Haven - they’re your rules, not mine’.”

“Suits you. Not sure about the misbehavin’ part though!”

Sara stuck her tongue out at him, and Jon grinned, remembering what that action had led to the previous morning, but contented himself with blowing her a kiss. “Just kidding!”

“Okay - let’s get back to it.” Sara ordered, earning herself a mocking salute from Jon, who nevertheless dragged himself off the couch. “Let’s do the one by the window first - the light’s pretty good for that just now.”

“What shirt? Same one?”

Cocking her head to one side, Sara considered, then mused aloud, “No shirt? Maybe. Let’s try that.”

Jon dropped the shirt onto the couch and followed her to the window, obeying her instructions as she directed him to put his hands on the steel transom that ran along the glass above his head, looking out of the window, which framed his reflected face.

“Great. Perfect.” She muttered, moving around to the side to catch more of the reflection, reaching forward to rake his hair away from his face until she could catch a glint of one blue eye. “Thank you. I like that one.” she said. “Okay - over here?”

At the couch, she stopped, glancing back at Jon’s naked torso as he walked over, then she picked out a pure white shirt, tossing it over to him. “This one?” She could feel sweat starting across her back, as the temperature rose, and she pulled off her t shirt, more comfortable in just the cami now.

He put the shirt on obediently, then sat on the floor in front of the fabric backdrop with his weight on his hands and one hip. Sara flicked a switch, turning on the lights around the area, then dropped to her knees to get down to Jon’s level for the next set of photos. There was something not quite right about the shot, though, and she lowered the camera as she considered.

“No.…that’s not….uh, can you….” she gave up trying to describe what she wanted, going across to Jon. “Sorry - can you just…”. She pushed him back slightly, so he was sitting straighter, trying to visualise the shot she wanted. Jon’s hands lifted from the floor, tugging at her braids.

“I’m sorry - I’ve been wanting to do that since I arrived!” he apologised, controlling himself and putting his hands back on the floor as she giggled.

“I think that’ll do now” Sara moved back to her camera, much happier now with what she saw. “Look at me? Good. Fantastic. I think that’ll do for here - just one more set and we’re all done!”

Rolling forward onto his knees, Jon crawled over to Sara, gently taking the camera from her hands and setting it down to one side. He knelt in front of her, catching her braids again, and pulling her toward him.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I arrived, too.” he whispered, kissing her lips, softly at first, then more forcefully as Sara opened her mouth to him, her hands moving up into his hair as they knelt together on the floor.