Teach Me Dirty

The universe blurred and warped, and the beginning and the end was all in Helen Palmer.

I found it all there. I felt it. I felt it all.

Her fingers slipped onto the palette, and with a smile she trailed wet paint down my cheek.

Her hips bucked against mine, and her breath was hot in my face, and when I filled her the world disappeared.

And I was free.

***

Helen

I couldn’t stop laughing. Not at us, covered in smeared paint, and not at the mess underneath us, either. The palette had slipped under my ass in the throes, and my whole backside was awash with paint, as was everything else around us. The sheets had caught most of it, but the cushions, were… different now.

We were messy, and euphoric, and happy, and brilliant. We were us.

Just us.

And fear couldn’t touch me here.

Mark wasn’t doing much better than me for paint coverage, which was ironic, since I was the one who’d been a human canvas for the last few hours.

He scowled but his eyes betrayed his humour.

“You have ruined that painting, Helen, ruined it.”

I poked out my tongue. “I think you ruined it. I wanted to see it first, before we got all… smeary.”

“Let’s just hope the picture comes out then, hey?”

I laughed. “What’s next? Can I do you?”

He brushed his cheek and his fingertips turned from blue to green. “I think that’s quite enough paint for one day.” He pointed to the stairs. “Get your lovely blue backside upstairs, please. Shower.”

Paint doesn’t come off all that easily. Especially not when you’re more interested in kissing than soaping.

“It’s not even midnight,” he said. “And we’ve painted, fucked and now we’re all showered for bed. What a disgrace.”

“Speak for yourself,” I laughed. “I’m ready to party.”

“Party?”

“I say party… I mean, finish our wine on the porch and watch the sky.” I brushed the hair back from his face. “Can we do that? I want to see the stars.”

“Yes, we can do that.”

He turned off the water, and wrapped me up in a towel, and I was laughing all over again as I watched him attempt to clear the bath up.

“Christ, Helen, this is everywhere.”

“It was your idea, don’t even try and pin that on me.”

“It was worth the mess, I’m just astounded.”

He towelled my hair, just like my mum used to do when I was a kid, and I felt so young again. Young and happy. I breathed freely.

“Wine and stars?” he said.

“Yes, please.”

He handed me a dressing gown, and towelled down while I wrapped up. He pulled on fresh jeans and shirt, and I just watched, fascinated.

“Don’t think you’re going out in just that, young lady. You’ll catch your death.”

“Enough of the young lady.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I’ll get dressed so long as my clothes weren’t caught in the crossfire.” We headed downstairs. “How am I going to explain that, hey? I’m going to have to tell Dad that Lizzie got creative with the poster paints.”

Suddenly it seemed hilarious, and I belly laughed, proper belly laughed.

Mark went to the porch, looked up at the sky. “Clear night,” he said, and then pulled a face and stepped further out.

I picked up my clothes and my phone bleeped from my pocket. I pulled it out and it was flashing.

Weird.

I pressed unlock and it sprung into life.

10 missed calls.

2 new voicemails.

5 text messages.

My heart stuttered.

“Mark, there’s something wrong…”

My fingers were clumsy and I didn’t know which to open first.

He appeared in the doorway and his brows were heavy. And then there was light. It swung through the kitchen windows.

“What the…?” He looked at the clock. “Gone midnight. I don’t even… who the hell could that be?”

He made his way to the front door, and dread gripped me.

My text messages opened.

Lizzie: Helen!! LEAVE!! Your dad is coming. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. x

Lizzie: Hels, please! Answer! I didn’t mean to, I swear. YOU HAVE TO GO! x

Lizzie: God, Helen, ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE! x

Lizzie: HE’S COMING TO GET YOU! I had no choice, Hels, I swear. Xx

Lizzie: I’m so sorry Xx

And then the banging came. Such terrible banging. The noise of it shook the door on the hinges.

It chilled me to the bone. Knocked the stuffing right out of me.

No. No. No.

Please fucking God, no.

Mark was already there, his hand on the latch.

He opened the door before I could even squeal.

Helen

The horror unfolded in slow motion as Mark swung the door open. I could hear my squeal ringing in my ears, a pitiful sound that was far too little, too late. Mark’s eyes met mine for just a moment before the door was barged in the rest of the way.

And there was Dad. A raging bull. His eyes were wild and his face was red, and he was spitting fury.

He didn’t see me at first, his attention was purely on Mark. He shoved his way into the hallway, and shoved his way into Mark.