Page 27 of The Naked Cleaner

Honesty is a powerful tool, my mum always says. For me it’s a bloody curse.

“Of course, it’s bloody you, and it’s bloody me and…” He stomps around in a circle and I take that as a cue to push in through his door and slam it shut behind me. I turn the lock. Put the chain on. I’m staying. I’m not leaving again until the two of us have sorted out this charade of emotions and innuendo and fucking horniness that is pulsating through me.

“Take off your clothes.” He says, sternly. “I can’t deal with you with all this… these…thingson.”

See? Infatuated. I love that he prefers me naked.Iprefer me naked. I can think when I’m naked. I think I’m less weird naked. I mean I can’t hide anything behind my skin. It’s just me. And he is still stomping around on the floor as I shred my clothes faster than light. Step out of my joggers and toe my socks off. They’re crap socks anyway. I should bin them.

Then I stand there like a fool as he still paces the floorspace. In his dressing gown. And there is a t-shirt underneath. No socks. Bare legs. Hair sticking up at every angle.

“I need help here.” He says, almost aggressively, but I am learning to read him now. He just talks like that when he’s frustrated. Scared. I think he is shit scared.

“I’m really frightened that I will mess this up, Pontus.” I start, keeping my voice calm.

“When it’s a business deal, it’s simple. It’s like a well-rehearsed script. They need things. I offer things. They want to pay nothing. I want profit. We negotiate. I throw in freebies. They ask for more. I remove things they need. They back down. We make a deal. Sign contracts. I deliver. They evaluate. I fix it. Everyone is happy. “

He stops pacing. Thank god, because he was making me dizzy just watching him.

“You and I have been negotiating.” I start. I don’t know how to word this. How to make any sense of what I am trying to say. Well, I am lying. All I want to say is,come on babe, just drop the clothes and go fuck your bed into splinters.

I’m not saying that out loud. Phew.

“You’re okay.” He says.

“Gee, thanks, Pontus.” I laugh. He is ridiculous.

“You’re… like… you make me feel less weird. Because you are weird. And I am weird and together, we make weirdness… Okay. I think. Fuck I am talking out of my arse. “ He paces again then stops right in front of me and his face instantly turns scarlet.

He wants to say something.

“I can see the steam coming out of your ears. You’re thinking too hard. Overthinking everything. I like you. I think I’m crushing on you. Hard. Like I want to be with you and make you happy, and you let me take care of you, and it’s amazing when you smile, and then we get on and laugh and it’s perfect, and then you go all grumpy on me and I get scared that you don’t like me and it’s all in my head, and then last night was amazing and all I want to do is pick you up and slam you into the wall and kiss you, and then we should fuck. I’m only being honest here, because I think if we fuck, we will get some of this crazy sexual tension out of the way and then... then we can figure this out. And by the way, I am staying tonight. Don’t even think of throwing me out. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.

“It’s my flat, I can throw you out anytime. And call the police if you don’t leave.”

His face is purple. And I laugh. In his face. Because he is ridiculous, and his eyes are wet and I am all mushy and emotional and I think I will one day love him so much that my heart will explode. His little wrinkles under his eyes and his flushed face and the ridiculous dressing gown and all. And I am standing here stark naked letting him just say all these stupid things. Because he’s funny and sarcastic and… mine. It’s a scary thought. I think Pontus is mine. He’s mine.

“I think you are my person.” I say. Loudly, as I stare at him.

“Jonas always said you were.” Pontus almost whispers. “He said we fit like a glove. I never thought he would be right. Jonas is full of shit.”

“Jonas is hilarious.” My mouth is talking crap but at least Pontus is standing still. Right in front of me. A tiny tear of wetness balancing in the corner of his eye. I reach out and stroke it away. My person. My Pontus. I know I am getting all overemotional and I’m tired and honestly? I’m exhausted after this last week. Trying so hard with Pontus and feeling like a failure most of the time. And now I am here, stripped bare of everything. I even told him we should fuck.

He moves, his hands shaking as he does it, but he reaches down and unties his dressing gown belt, and me? What do I do? I rip the damn thing over his shoulders and then I yank his t-shirt over his head like a bloody lunatic.

But there he is. All naked. Much better. Oh yes.

I don’t know who is making the moves here, but he’s in my arms and I am in his, and his face is in my neck and there is skin everywhere, andoh fuck, I like this. I like this a lot. Just letting my hands roam over his body, stroking his back and cupping his arse. No underpants in the way. No bloody fabric and elastic to negotiate. I love skin. Warmth. The curves as it hugs the bones underneath. The warmth and the subtle movements of his pulse. The way his chest rises and falls against my own.

My hands travel upwards until I can cup his face and guide it to where I need it. Where I can look into his eyes and talk to him. I like talking. I should shut up, but I need words. I function better when I have words.

“What do you need, Pontus?”

He blushes again. Like his face could blush more. I love it. I love that these things embarrass him and turn him on in equal measure, because just look at him. And there is a boner happening against my thigh and I love that too.

“I need... You.” He stutters out. “Haven’t done this for a while so… you know…”

He was all confidence last night, humping himself into oblivion against my fist. Now, he’s as shy as a virgin.

“Are you a virgin? I mean, you have had anal sex before?” Me and my fucking mouth, because now he is squirming in my arms, and I almost violently hug him, letting my lips kiss his head like I am peppering him with love bullets. I need to calm him down and not put pressure on him. I need to make him relax. I need to make love to him, not fuck him up. I have done that before, not talked about the important things and ended up in a fucking shitheap of embarrassing squirming when things don’t work out.

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