sindy arthur were a lo-fi - really lo-fi - indie pop duo featuring gina from the marine girls and mark flunder of the television personalities. their only cassette was released in 1987 was on the bi-joopiter label (home of another shambling favorite of mine, mctells).
Claire didn’t loiter to watch the end of the filming after Jamie had been called back. She’d actually enjoyed talking to him for the short while that he’d joined her on the floor of the studios and if he was chosen –well, it was safe to say she didn’t want to watch him and the twee blond girl behind the slider chat up a storm for the cameras.
Taking herself off, she walked the almost silent halls, dodging the random crew member here and there until she found the large (catered) green room. With it being so late on, nobody else was in there and stuffing her face with biscuits seemed infinitely more tempting than the drafty recording set.
Settling herself on the comfy sofa, Claire toed off her shoes and began rubbing her feet, shifting her visitors badge from around her neck before pouring herself a warm cup of tea.
Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and inhaled a rather large breath.
“The producer said I might find ye here,” a deep voice broke through the quiet.
Squinting, Claire opened one eye to watch as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.
The settee depressed with an almost silent creek as he sat beside her his arm coming to rest incredibly close to her head.
“She didn’t pick you then?” Claire asked, knowing the likely answer since he was hiding away with her here, instead of lapping it up back on set. She just needed to make sure before she dove head first into something she *might* regret later.
At least if he was still –for all intents and purposes– single, and he rejected her, she could accept she wasn’t stealing someone else’s potential partner.
“Nay, she didna.”
Letting him eye her for just a second, Claire took another breath before leaning over and taking his lips against hers. He didn’t resist, almost guessing her movements to a tee. Their mouths moved fluidly against one another, Claire’s hand getting lost in Jamie’s longish curls as she twisted to push herself close to him.
Their tongues met as the eager pair slid closer and closer until Claire was almost sat astride Jamie’s hips.
“No’ here, Claire,” he sighed, holding her chin softly in his palm as he glanced towards the door, breaking their contact. “I have a dressing room that’s private.”
Claire nodded, a sort of fuzzy haze surrounding her as Jamie rose and took her by the hand.
Leaning down, she picked her shoes up from the floor but carried them rather than putting them back on, as he guided her towards the small room off the main corridor.
Slamming the door closed behind them, Claire pushed Jamie against it, her hands pinning him to the chipped painted surface.
“I don’t usually do this,” she panted in between kisses, her heart thrumming in her chest as she ran a finger along his chin and down his neck. “I promise. You just–”
“I ken,” he interrupted, feeling the self-doubt rising within her as she spoke. “I feel the same. I dinna go around snogging random women, either,” he whispered against her lips, noting the faint pink tint to her cheeks as she tilted her head and licked her lips, tasting his subtle musk against her flushed skin.
“Good to know,” she murmured, her eyes closing as they joined once more.
The soft sound of their caresses echoed around the tiny room as Claire began to undo Jamie’s shirt, the heat building, pulling her under.
Stumbling, she almost missed one, her brain catching up with her body as she tried to shift away.
“J-Jamie…” she stuttered, blinking her eyes open as the harsh lights came back into focus. “I’m not even off the clock yet! I could lose my license to practice.”
Her ramblings were severed by a loud banging as someone began pounding on the door.
“Mr. Fraser! We just need you back for one more shot! Back on stage in five please!”
“A-aye, o’ course…” Jamie returned, his eyes holding Claire’s as he spoke.
He waited then, not wanting to continue until he was sure nobody was listening the other side.
“That willna happen, Claire. Dinna fash. Just, please,” he begged, his head dipping slightly as he took her hands in his and gripped her fingers, “dinna leave wi’out me.”
Abashed, Claire nodded, following Jamie back out into the hall and towards the open set arena. She watched, her head bent forward to hide the emotions playing out on her own face, as the cast and crew viewed them with mixed expressions.
She had a feeling they all knew what had transpired between Jamie and herself and she by no means wanted to stir the pot.
“Right!” the director yelled, holding a very old looking hat between his fingers. “Back on cue. Finally.”
Standing off to the side, Claire hid in the shadows, desperate not to bring any more attention to herself as the final cut of the show was shot and the producers -finally- wrapped the guests.
Tapping her foot against the polished lino, she waited for someone –anyone– to come and relieve her of her duties. The combined close warmth of the place was starting to make her feel light headed, along with the heady mix of Jamie, the scent of him still lingering on her tongue.
“Dr. Beauchamp?” a small, timid voice called. Claire almost didn’t hear the meek young man who stood next to her, headset in hand, the bags under his eyes large enough to hold a full weeks shop and possibly more. “They’ve said you’re free to go now, t-thank you.”
Nodding, she turned on her heel, eager to be away. Sweat gathered on her palms as she collected her medical supplies and headed for the service entrance. Part of her knew she should wait around for Jamie, but a more prominent part wanted out. Something told her the green room footage wouldn’t make pleasant viewing, at least not for the pair of them anyway.
The cool air felt good against her burning cheeks as it blasted her on exiting the building. She hadn’t even stopped to sign out of the exit book at the front, but nor did she think someone sensible would be manning it at this hour. It would probably be an off-duty security guard, and she was sure they wouldn’t even bother about one random lost doctor. If anyone asked, she’d feign an emergency. Joe would stick up for her.
Rounding the corner into the staff car park, she pulled out the keys to her little Fiesta, the tiny blip resonating through the near-empty space.
“Here was me thinking we had something in there,” Jamie jested, stunning Claire as she jerked her head up, eyes wide in shock. “But here ye are, running from me.”
Smiling, Claire shrugged her shoulders, her hair slipping further from it’s loose binding.
“I wouldn’t say running,” she returned. “More like a slow amble if you ask me.”
“Aye,” he replied, his voice low, husky. It seemed to vibrate through the floor and up into the soles of her feet.
“I’m sorry, Jamie, it wasn’t you. I hope you know that. I really did want to stick around and talk, at the very least,” she began, a hint of regret swirling in the air around her. “But that place…I don’t know, I got the feeling they *knew*.”
“They did,” he stated, rather cautiously, pushing himself from the bonnet of her car and walking steadily towards her. “The green room has CCTV, a live feed to the floor so the runners can see that the guests arena starved.”
Claire nodded, her whole face turning bright red in the dark night as she imagined them all watching in wonder as she and Jamie almost dry humped right before their eyes.
“Dinna fret, aye? I spoke to them about it. To protect ye. Naybody is fashed about it, Claire. Happens all the time –apparently.”
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he brought her softly against his chest and rubbed her arms in quiet support.
“Thank you, Jamie. Truly. I honestly would have had to go back in there and explain if you hadn’t sorted it all.” Nuzzling her face into the plush liner of his jacket, Claire lost herself for a moment, letting her embarrassment dissipate.
Finally, realising where she was, she pulled away, her face a more normal colour again.
“I dinna mean to sound sae forward,” Jamie started, his eyebrows drawing together as if uncertain as to whether to broach this question or not.
“Out with it!” Claire pressed, letting an undertone of humour creep into her words.
“Weel.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifted from one foot to the other, the asphalt beneath his shoes making a low scratch as he built up the courage. “I have a hotel room, provided to me by the show. Would ye care for a night cap –wi’ me?”
Blushing once more, Claire nodded, not trusting her voice as she held out her hand to him.
“If it has parking, I’m definitely in,” she returned, her eyes alight with hope as she tugged him towards her car.
“Aye, Claire,” Jamie replied, pulling the large keyfob from his pocket. “I believe it does.”