Page 74 of Shroom for Improvement

I mouthed the word “Insufferable?” to Claude, and he shook his head.

“Well, if he’s not here to defend it, it’s mine.” Mrs Ziegler walked over to my pee-bale and magicked it into the air.

“My pee-bale!” I whimpered, reaching out my arm as though I could take control of the floating, urine-soaked bale.

Claude slapped a hand over my mouth. Pressed his body against mine. And instantly, all the fight left me.

His palm was soft. It smelled like him—soapy and musty and earthy. His chest rose and fell against my stomach. His eyes bore into mine. I had momentarily forgotten about Mrs Ziegler, but I caught a whiff of ammonia and my pee-bale floated right past the gap in the wall.

I shut my eyes, unable to bear witness to its loss. I only knew it and Mrs Ziegler were gone when Claude removed his hand from my mouth. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me, bouncing his gaze over my face.

“My pee-bale,” I whined again. Goodbye all those soil-enriching nutrients.

Claude took a big inhalation. “Sonny, forget about the pee-bale. I’ll get you a new one, okay? And I’ll buy a tanker of soda and fill it up for you.”

“You would do that for me?”

He didn’t answer. He simply stared at my face for the longest time. His pupils dilated, his chest heaved against mine, and all thoughts of pee-bales were wiped from my mind. Scratch that, all thoughts altogether had been wiped from my mind. Only one remained.

Just how much I wanted Claude to crowd up into my space and push his tongue into my mouth.

Gods, I wanted that so fucking much.

I tried to will my mouth to speak.Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me. But the one time I seemed unable to blurt out my thoughts was the one time I desperately wanted to.

After a few moments, Claude spoke. He glanced at my lips and then gazed into my eyes. His voice was scratched and rough, sandpaper against rocks. “Truth or dare? And say dare.”

“Dare,” I whispered.

I knew what it would be before the words left him. “Kiss me.”

My body responded before my brain, slamming my lips down onto his. The back of his head knocked against the alley wall, as I angled his mouth to mine, claiming it feverishly, like at any moment he might stop me. But he was the one to take things to the next level. He was the one to push his tongue into my mouth, to caress mine with urgent, hot strokes.

Any hopes I had of keeping my erection at bay were decimated. It pressed insistently against his abdomen. Claude’s arousal dug into the crease of my thigh and pelvis.

But before I got too used to the sensation, Claude pulled off me. He closed his eyes. “Go away!”

“Wha—”

“No, not you. Never you.” He cradled my face. “Jenny. The house. It’s whooping.”

“Whooping?” I repeated, barely containing my laugh.

Claude pinched his smile between his teeth. “Please, Jenny, just give us a moment alone.” He paused, for what felt agonisingly close to several minutes. “It says it’ll stay quiet. And let us...” He slowly blinked his eyes closed. “And let us get down to business.”

It wasn’t an outright rejection, and my lips already missed his. “May I kiss you again?”

Claude didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. He brought his hand around my nape and pulled my head downto his, mashing our lips together. I whined into his mouth, and Claude swallowed it down.

His kiss was pleading, insistent, desperate. Tongues and teeth and panted breaths. His hand, once gentle around the back of my neck, snaked its way to my shoulders and forced me backwards against the wall. I did the same to him until we were playing this push and shove game of urgency.

“More. I need more,” he said, ragged and breathless. “I need these dirty fingers on me. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”

“Come through here.” I held his elbow and guided him through the alley into the dusty courtyard. And immediately I slammed him against the wall again. Slid my hands under his lapels, over his shoulders, and shucked his jacket. I tossed it onto the pink metal bench. His waistcoat was next, then the buttons of his shirt. I pushed it open but let it hang from his shoulders. Our mouths remained connected the entire time.

I pulled away because I needed to look at him. Had spent so long wondering, imagining what he looked like underneath that adorable conductor’s uniform. I’d been right. He was perfect. Brown skin dusted in copper coils. He had a tummy, beautiful and round. I hovered my hands above it, waiting for his consent.

Claude seized my wrists and pulled me to him, pushing my fingers up his naked torso.

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