Part 2 of Right Between the Eyes by Fingersmith

Watching her sifting through the tops on the stand was wonderful.  Such a simple image.  I was standing with my back against the wall facing the side of her.  Her expression was concentrated and not, if you know what I mean.  She was picking up tops, holding them up and then against her.  All of them suited her – well, a black bin bag would suit her, as she had the body that could get away with anything.  But the reason why I said her concentration was not always on the clothes she was looking at was because now and again I would catch her looking my way from the corner of her eye.  It felt good.  The knowledge, that is … the knowledge that she was trying to peek at me when she thought I wasn't watching.  It had been too long since I had cared if anyone was looking at me or not, and here was a woman who I thought was wonderfully perfect and she was sneaking sly glances at me.  Me.  The one who thought the sun shone out of her.

I didn't hide the fact I was watching her.  Didn't hide the fact that my expression said I wanted to eat her alive.  What was the point?  I wanted her.  Wanted her in a way that made me think if I didn't have her I would explode.  Wanted her in a way that made me believe I would always want her … and then want her some more.  It had only been our second meeting, and I knew I wanted it to be one of the ones I would look back on in years to come and think ‘Wow … And we're still together.'  Mushy, but true.

A sigh escaped my mouth unbidden.  I felt so at home just standing there watching her.  It felt as if I had known her a lifetime but it still didn't feel like enough.  Another sigh, and I felt my face take on that dreamy expression of the mentally challenged. 

Funny things happen when you are not paying attention.  Things move and you are not quite sure where they have gone.  In this instance I think it was the wall that shifted ... then the shelf next to me, because as I felt myself slipping rapidly to the floor, neither of them were in grabbing distance.  BAM!  Right on my arse.  Clothes flew everywhere, but mainly over me and I sat there looking like a broken washing line.

Her voice came through the mound of clothes even before I could see her, and I knew she found it extremely funny that I had become an extra sales stand.  As you may gather, the comic side to the situation had not reached my funny bone yet.  Why was it one minute everything was going perfectly only to be counter balanced with me getting myself into an embarrassing situation?  Fuck knows.

‘Here.  Let me help you.'  Her hand gripped hold of mine and pulled me to my feet in one swift movement.  On the way, my left foot tangled in a very loud shirt and made me stagger and fall into her.  Strong arms were there to catch me and pull me closer, and it felt incredible.  The feel of her body against mine was unbelievably perfect; like it was the way I should be … in her arms and being held by her.  I didn't want to let go – wanted to stay like that for as long as she would let me.

‘Hey … you ok?'  The humour from a minute ago was gone.  The voice was husky and so close I could feel her breath skim across my cheek.  Little sparks of energy seeped into me from her and then back into her again. I felt my eyes lifting and looking into her face.  Those blue eyes were so much more hypnotising up close.  I could feel myself getting closer and closer … and then closer still.

Our mouths were separated by mere millimetres and the urge to close the gap was all consuming.  I wanted to feel how soft her lips were underneath mine … wanted to feel her melting into me as much as I wanted to melt into her.  I could feel myself creeping closer … feel my eyes closing in anticipation of the contact I was sure would follow … feel my heart rate pick up and race …

‘You ladies ok there?'  A shop assistant decided that now was the right time to actually come and ask if we needed assistance.  In everything I had done that day, kissing Sophie would have been the only thing I thought I didn't need help with.  Guess I was wrong.

My eyes were well and truly open by this stage, mainly because I felt her arms drop away from me like they had been burned.  I could see the blush light her face like a red traffic light and I knew I was joining her.  Bright red.  Both of us standing there illuminating the shop.  It wasn't the fact that I was just about to kiss another woman in public – far from it.  It was more of a case of not kissing another woman in the middle of the store that made my face flush … and the fact that she was standing there and I hadn't done it.  I doubt she was feeling the same way, not by the look of absolute mortification written all over her.

‘F … fine.  Thanks.'  Her, not me.  I was still incapable of stringing a sentence together as all the moisture I should have had in my mouth was decidedly elsewhere.

‘Anything you fancy?'  This time the assistant directed the comment straight at me, and the best I could conjure was …

‘Uh huh.' Woman of many words, but I was surprised that I even got that out.

‘I'll leave you to have a think about it then.'  Now that seemed quite a loaded statement.  Think about what?  The fact that I felt absolutely drawn to this woman whom was standing not a foot away from me?  Or the fact I felt too much too soon? I had only met her twice, and the first time was not all fun and games.  It was crazy.  This was crazy.  It wouldn't be so bad if I had been drinking, but I had only had a cup of coffee first thing in the morning – and I know that caffeine is not the best thing for you, but this was taking it a step too far.

‘Fancy a coffee?'  Her voice broke through and reminded me of where I was and whom I was with.  Coffee.  Another one.  Jesus – if the first one of the day had brought on my falling over and then wanting to suck the life out her, what the hell would another one do?

I swallowed.  Deeply.  Then I bit the proverbial bullet once again.

‘How about lunch?  My treat … as a thank you for taking care of me.'  When she smiled her nose wrinkled up and made her look adorable, and I could feel myself becoming light headed once again.  ‘I take that as a yes.'  She nodded dramatically, the grin widening … the wrinkling becoming more apparent.  ‘But before we go, did you find anything you liked?'  The smile slipped slightly as her eyes fleetingly swept across my face stopping briefly on my mouth.  I watched as she swallowed a couple of times before she answered.

‘I think I have every thing I need.'  Her look was intense and I was finding it difficult to regulate my breathing.  Especially because I seemed to be the recipient of her intense gaze – or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

We opted for a pub lunch.  It seemed more fitting somehow that I should take her somewhere a little less formal than a fancy restaurant.  Not that I minded spending money on her – that wasn't it at all.  It was more of a case where it would seem friendlier, if you know what I mean.  And we grabbed a fantastic table hidden away in a tiny alcove a way from all the prying eyes of the rest of the punters.

We both ordered fish and chips and a pint of bitter – a true British lunch.  The atmosphere between us was strange – comfortable, yet expectant.  It was the expectant part that made me on edge, and her too, for that matter.  But there was also the comfortable part to balance it all out.  All I kept on seeing was her face close to mine, me just about to kiss her and then stopping suddenly.  Every time I thought of the near kiss, I licked my lips, and every time I licked my lips, I caught her doing exactly the same thing – thus making me lick mine again.  A vicious circle that just incited the yearning inside me even more; and it felt wonderfully torturous.

We didn't chat much as we were eating; it was mainly just comments about the food and the pub itself … nothing personal.  I was glad about that really, as I felt a little exposed every time she looked at me squarely in the face. It felt as if she could jump inside my head and read my mind – and believe me, my thoughts were far from innocent.

When she was reading the menu to decide whether she fancied a dessert, I took the opportunity to totally digest her.  She was a vision.  Black hair draped over one shoulder and kissed her collarbone delectably.  Fingers came and went through her hair, pushing the locks up and away from her face, only to fall back again.  It was so swift, so sure, yet decidedly fruitless, as the hair was determined to cover her.  In a way, I felt jealous of it … jealous of those fingers being able to touch her.  I wanted to be the one who could push the hair away.  The way she pursed her lips and then trailed her finger over them in consternation was another trait of hers I wanted to take.  Then how the same finger would tap the centre of her lips when she was on the verge of a decision … the way her mouth opened and moved as words came out.  Words that I missed because I was being overly dreamy and not paying attention.

‘Oi.  Dreamer.'  I felt my back teeth grit together and hold, making my jaw ache.  ‘I said I'm good … are you up for something sweet?'  Your lips?  Your smile?  Your beautiful voice?  ‘Or are you going to sit there and stare at my mouth all afternoon?'

Aw fuck.  I knew I was being obvious, but I had hoped I was being obvious in a sleek and seductive way.  The feeling of my mouth grinding closed showed that I was far from being the seductive siren that would make her swoon and fall at my feet.  I looked like a border terrier with their overshot jaw … images of the hissing Mutley came to mind.

I just shook my head in answer.

‘No?  To what?  Dessert or staring?'  A laugh came out of her mouth and sprinkled like fairy dust into the air.  And like fairy dust's powers, I was bewitched by her, and I joined in.  The tension I had been experiencing since I had been caught dissipating into the air in a puff.

‘No.  To both.'  The smile I gave her came easily, and she grinned in return before grabbing her chest in mock horror.

‘You mean to tell me you don't want to sit and stare at my luscious lips all afternoon?  I'm crushed.'

‘Well … I … erm …' I pretended to deliberate over the question, and she leaned over the table and play punched me in the arm.  So I did it back.  And so did she … and to everyone all around us, we must've seemed like a couple of teenager boys.  But you know what I hate?  Really hate?  When you are sitting laughing with someone and you throw your head back to show how funny you think something is, and there is a brick wall there, or a shelf.  In this instance, it was a wall.  A bloody hard one.  The crack resounding in our small area was the sound of my head hitting solid brick.  The ‘Ah fuck it all to buggery!'  was my response to the aforementioned slamming.  What was it with me when I was with her?  I was constantly doing myself an injury.  There had been no ‘accidents' for years until the day I spotted her on the playing field, and now it seemed they were one after the other.

Sophie didn't say anything.  Didn't laugh.  Not even a chuckle.  All she did was move around the table until she was next to me and gesture that I should stop rubbing the spot ferociously and let her have a look.  As I sat with my head forward, I held my breath until I felt her fingers twine delicately into my hair.  It was so gentle … teasingly so.  The pain I had experienced melted away and left only the feel of her fingers gliding over the spot, which I gauged was now raising up into some sort of lump.  Again.

The rhythm of her fingers in my hair was lulling me, making my eyes close and accept the touch graciously … accept the feeling of her being in control of how I was feeling.  And then she stopped her movements … just held her fingers there in my hair.  I looked upwards and into her eyes, and the blueness was now almost violet … her nostrils were flaring a little as her breathing was coming out in short sharp blasts.  The rest of the pub melted away … all there was were her eyes … all I wanted there to be was her eyes … and her lips … and her …

I felt her hand shift from my hair, and gentle fingers trail down the side of my face.  I was moving towards her … my mouth opening, hers opening slightly too.  There was no way on earth I could stop it … no way I wanted to stop it.  I was too far gone … too lost in her eyes … her mouth … her lips …

Soft.  So soft.  Soft and supple.  The tenderness of her mouth on mine was breathtaking.  Just a brushing of lips … just an introduction … just was never just when it came to her kiss.  A flick from her tongue made me moan and open my mouth wider to allow her access to everything and anything she wanted.  She could have it all … all of me … just as long as she continued to kiss me like that.  My hand lifted up to cup her face and bring her closer and into me, and I accepted the groan she emitted into my mouth.  Slow movements of my lips against hers, my tongue teasing hers as hers teased mine, was making the pit of my stomach climb up my throat and beg for her to swallow me whole.  Nothing else mattered …  nothing.  The feel of her, the taste of her, the movement of just our mouths and hands was enough to feed me for the rest of my life.

But as all situations you are in that you want to last forever, there has to be an end.  And the end of the kiss was just as perfect as the start.  We both slowed down at the same time and moved apart … to quickly start again, before stopping.  I stared into her eyes again and they were full of what I was feeling.  So much longing … so much of everything I wanted to continue.  I leaned forward and pressed my forehead against hers and digested her eyes from close up.

We sat like that for a while, not speaking, not feeling anything but the aftershocks of the kiss.

‘I want to do that again.  And again.  And again.'  Her voice was low and sultry, husky even.  And tremors rippled down my spine and then back up again.  I rubbed my nose onto hers, gently.

‘So do I, Sophie … So do I.'

But we didn't.  We continued to stare into each other's eyes until the time felt right that we should pull away.  The air between us seemed so different now.  Charged.  Expectant, but in a good way expectant.

Not long after that we left the pub and walked to the car park.  Nothing was said.  Nothing needed to be said.  It was one of those situations where everything is communicated without words.  Each look we gave each other said ‘I want to do this again'.  Each smile announced that this was it.  And each time my hand brushed against hers I felt the same electric sparks race and puzzle themselves around every fibre of my body.  The lump on my head was forgotten.  The only pain I felt was when I had to say goodbye to her next to her car.  That one gripped me right inside my chest.

Just as she had started the ignition, it hit me.  I didn't know her phone number … address … and I hadn't even asked her out again.  Frantically, I banged on the passenger side window and she lowered it, her face showing puzzlement.  God … the thought shot into my head.  What if she didn't want anything else?  What if what I had been feeling and believing was happening between us was in my head?  Shit.  What would I do?

Like a teenager I stood there, one hand on the roof of the car and leaning down into the window.  I was even kicking the ground and squirming.

Her face was questioning.  Confusion evident.  God oh god oh God.  I had misread it all.  I had thought she was feeling exactly what I had been feeling and she wasn't.  Fuck.  What to do?  I was having an inner battle … one side was telling me to just ask her out, the other was screaming ‘Run!  Run for your life, woman!'  But I stood my ground.  I had to.  There was no way I could just walk away with the knowledge that I'd not even tried …

‘Erm.  I was … erm.'  She sat there.  Waiting.  ‘I erm … would …erm …'  I could feel the glow gracing my face, and even my head was starting to throb a little by now.  ‘Would you …erm …'  Fuck.  Why was it so hard?  I wasn't used to this.  I wasn't used to feeling this way about anyone … wasn't used to knowing the question of asking them out on a date was going to be one of the most important ones I would make in my life.  Well, that's what it seemed to be.

‘You asking me out?'  Clear.  Precise.  Clinically humorous.  I swallowed nervously and um and ahhed a few more times, whilst swallowing my cowardice.  ‘Aren't you going to be there tonight?'  Tonight?  ‘At Ben's party?'  That was tonight?  Crap.  My own nephew's birthday party and I had forgotten … well I hadn't … Who am I kidding?  As soon as I had spotted her in M&S the real world had fizzled away with a resounding pop.  I was meant to go and pick up the birthday cake …

‘Shit!'  I frantically looked at my watch and noted it was three thirty.  And the bakery shut at three.  My sister was going to skin me alive …  ‘Just one more thing before I go.'  Yanking the door open I lunged inside and kissed her hard, my hands gripping her face.  ‘See you tonight.  Ok?'  And I was gone.  Running down Princes Street like the hounds of hell were on my tail.  And they would have been too if Carrie would have had anything to do with it.


Seven thirty saw me at Carrie's house – cake in hand.  I had been so lucky to have spotted the poor owner locking the front doors.  Come to think of it, I think I frightened the shite out of him with my screaming and waving my hands in the air.  He was desperately trying to click the padlock into place and make his escape from the mad woman with the voice that could warn ships in fog, when I collared him and begged him to open up.  Even gave a spiel about how Ben had just overcome a great tragedy in his life.  Well, it was part way true.  If I hadn't got the cake I would have been six foot under.  And to me that seemed pretty tragic.

All the family were there … all of them.  It was like a casting for the Adams Family.  Cousin It definitely needed a haircut … and I was pretty sure she used to be a he …  Ben was excited about having a grown up party, as he said he didn't want the kids in his class to come as they were immature.  Bless his little cotton socks.  I just hoped he would actually stay awake long enough to get the full experience.

As soon as I arrived, he was there, grabbing the cake from me and slamming it on the table.  I thought he was eager to see what it was like, but he didn't even look at it.  All he wanted to do was throw his arms around my waist and hug me as hard as he possibly could.  God, did he have a grip on him.  I felt my diaphragm expand and dilate and then contract again when he finally let go. 

‘Thank you for the game, Aunty Katie.  Everyone has that at school.'  Then he gripped me again.

It was whilst I was in mid grip that I heard the doorbell sing out Jingle Bells, and laughed at the fact my sister was either four months early or eight months late.  I was just in the middle of peeling Ben's fingers from my t-shirt when I heard her voice.

‘Hey there, handsome.'  No.  She wasn't talking to me … She was wooing and charming my nephew to the point of unhinging his fingers without the need for me to use a crow bar.  As he was racing over to give her the same treatment, her eyes met mine.  ‘And hello there, gorgeous.'

I wanted to go ‘tee hee hee' like a teenager, or swivel my foot and look bashful.  But instead I just blushed and open and closed my mouth like a fish.

‘Oomph!'  Ben had met his mark and hugged her like I wanted to.  But I would wait.  Not for long though, as all I wanted to do was kiss her again.

It was quite a while after that I got my chance again, as things livened up as soon as she arrived.  I had to winkle Ben from her and guide him towards the rest of his guests who were waiting to sing Happy Birthday to him.  The funniest thing was when I spotted one of his guests … his own personal guests, who had arrived with her parents in tow.  I would torment you and not tell you straight away who it was … or am I doing that already?  You've probably guessed it by now anyway.  Oh go on then … you've twisted my arm.  It was Reggie Kray herself … the one and only ‘Ben's a  puff' one.  And by the adoring looks she was giving him, I doubted she thought he was a ‘big girl's blouse' now.  I felt a tremor of pride race through me as I realised my nephew was a stud, although he did have crap taste.  Unlike me, of course.

And that brings us back to the lady in question.  Sophie.  She was proof enough that my taste was absolutely bang on the mark.  All night I spent looking at her talking to others with ease.  All night I watched her playing easily with Ben, making him throw his head back with laughter … tickling him … tormenting him.  It was such a wonderful feeling to see them together.  At times I almost felt like I was his mother, but his mother was too busy glaring at me at any given opportunity.

It was when I was filling my glass with ice that Carrie made her intentions known.  I turned from the fridge to see her standing there with her arms crossed over like Buddha.  She raised an eyebrow and gave me the look.


I turned away and heard her say, ‘You know damn well, lady.  Spill.'

Ah bless.  She didn't know the outcome of her matchmaking skills, and I was in two minds whether to tell her or not.  But I didn't need to, as right at that moment Sophie walked in and right over to me. 

‘Hey … at last I get to see you.'  Her hand came up and stroked my arm, and I smiled at her before looking at my sister who was smirking to herself … well, at me actually.  ‘Hi, Carrie.  Ben's enjoying himself I see.'

Carrie nodded and came over to us.  ‘Yeah … he's been looking forward to tonight for so long.  So have I, as it happens.'  As she said it, she flashed me a knowing smile and gave me a wink.  ‘I'll leave you ladies to it.'

Then she was gone.  Rather quickly by her standards.  She would usually hang about and make me feel uncomfortable when I was with a woman.  But this time she decided she would not get in the way … and that was a huge sign that she wanted me to get better acquainted with Sophie.  She wasn't the only one.  I wanted to get better acquainted with the gorgeous woman who was now looking at me questioningly. 

‘You ok?'  Her voice was low and concerned.  ‘You having doubts?'  About what?  And my expression asked her the very same question. ‘Us.' Her hand left my arm and dropped to her side.  I couldn't answer straight away, as I was a little startled that she would even think that I didn't want her.  It wasn't until I felt her moving away from me that I got my act together.  Grabbing her arm, I pulled her towards me … towards me and into me.  My hand lifted up and clutched the back of her head to bring her face down to mine.  Lips met lips … opening and accepting … tasting and confirming that this was meant to be.  I didn't want her to doubt the way I was feeling.  I wanted to convey it all in a kiss … a kiss that was more than a kiss.  Her hands began to snake around my waist and I felt myself being pulled into her – felt my body morphing into hers.

‘You gonna get married?'  Both Sophie's and my eyes shot open, our lips freezing and holding.  ‘Can I be best man?'  Ben was looking up at us, his face full of wonder … and a lingering look of anticipation crossing his features.

It was Sophie who answered him, and like Ben, my face showed surprise.  ‘Well give me a chance, mate.  I have to sweep her off her feet first.'  She turned to smile at me, that half crooked one that I was beginning to become addicted to and I felt the metaphorical movement of my feet being swept from underneath me.  God.  All because of a smile … imagine how I would feel when she really put her mind to it.

‘That's if you want to be swept off your feet?'  The feel of her breath on my face danced like tiny feet on my skin, and my heart sighed at the touch.  I was getting way too mushy for my liking, but I just couldn't bloody help it.  If she blew her nose on my sleeve at that precise moment, I would have awwwed and saved it in a treasure box.  Instead of snot, though, all I had were two sets of eyes looking at me and waiting for my response.  A grin spread across my face, which I flashed at Ben then at her.  And to make sure she knew I wanted her to sweep me off my feet more than anything <and definitely more than snot>, I kissed her again.  Short.  Sharp.  To the point.  And hopefully an answer to her question.

The smile she gave me after the kiss indicated she was well aware that I was more than interested in her proposition … the hug she graced me with, accompanied by the oomphing sound was like a full stop to the discussion.

‘Well.  Can I?'

Kids.  Gotta love em.  Come to think of it, most of us go around not recognising the signs of romance … me included, and I was more than nine years old.  But I think the main difference we have is that kids do so from lack of experience, whereas as adults it's the experience that makes us more wary – not wanting to recognise the signs in case we get hurt.

Hopefully I wouldn't let my past failures interfere with my future prospects … I wanted more than just a kiss … I wanted the whole package.  I wanted her.


Not long after that, Sophie left, but not before I had secured an address, telephone number, mobile number and even her email address.  As you may gather, I wasn't taking any chances, even though I knew that Carrie at least had her phone number.  But that was not all I secured.  There was no way I was going to let her out of my sight without asking her out again, and as the front door closed on her, I was content in the knowledge I would be seeing her the following Saturday.  I wanted to make it the next day, but I thought it might be a little too soon for her, although I'm sure I saw a spark of disappointment when I mentioned the following Saturday.  But I had made the right decision … I was going to play it right … play it cool … and maybe even play it safe.  I didn't want to bugger things up – I didn't want to make a stupid mistake and lose this feeling – or her for that matter.

After I closed the door, I leaned against it, memories of her smile, her eyes … the feel of her mouth … the taste of her.  God.  The ache in my side was agony.  If this was what it was like to have been with her for one day, imagine what I would be like after a week?  A month?  A year?  Could I stand it?  Could I cope with this longing?  This wanting her and needing her so much that I couldn't think straight?

Definitely.  However much it hurt, there was no way I could stop it.  Already I was too far gone.  Even when I closed my eyes all I could see was her, and the thing was all I wanted to see was her.

Now the question was, did she want the same thing?  Only time would tell.


Just over two months later, we were still together … and every time I saw her I loved her more and more.  But like the chicken I am, I hadn't told her yet.  This wasn't because she hadn't told me … just that …well … erm … maybe it was.  I wanted to tell her … there was nothing more I wanted to slip from my lips when I was with her, but I just couldn't do it.  Too many times I felt those three little words collecting at the back of my throat and on the verge of popping out, but I contained myself.  I actually used to mouth the words when she wasn't looking.  How sad is that?  Every time she turned away, I would mime ‘I love you', and sometimes ‘I love you so much' – I even caught myself saying ‘I'm so in love with you' on more than one occasion. 

I could have just said them and told her there was no expectation for her to reciprocate, but I think it would have broken my heart if she just replied ‘Oh really', or even just ignored it.  Well it would do wouldn't it?  Standing there pouring your heart out and having it thrown back in your face, or you watching the embarrassed reaction and having to siphon the words back inside.

Another thing we hadn't done was made love.  I know what you are thinking.  I'm thinking the same thing … I would have usually made a move after the second date, but I didn't want it to be all about performing the beast with two backs.  Rather crass way of putting it, but I think you understand.  I wanted to make love to her … make love with her … couple with her … take her gently and firmly … discover the contours of her body and commit them to memory. Feel the rise and fall of her breast … her stomach … note the way her breathing would hitch and change as I touched her there … and there … and there …  Experience the sensation of her voice as she said my name in the throes of her cumming … watch her eyes flutter  … close … open, and digest me whole, finishing with her telling me she loved me and only me. 

Yes.  I want it all.  I want all of her … and I wanted it to last for the rest of my life.  I was so far gone into her; I couldn't see past the blueness of her eyes and couldn't taste anything but her.  Food was redundant.  Any fluid that passed my lips tasted sterile and flat.  All I craved was her mouth and the moisture that would have passed from her to me in one single kiss.

Thoughts of being with her haunted my every moment – awake or asleep.  I had not seen her naked yet, but the images I had conjured up were enough to keep me fighting with myself not to just jump on her and find out for myself.  It wasn't as if we were not passionate … or didn't have anywhere where we could be together, it was just that it felt right to wait.  Kissing her … holding her … stroking her hair and her face and her throat were so captivating that I would find myself drifting into some kind of stupor which held me totally fixated on what I could feel.  If the sensations of a kiss could bring me to my knees, God knows what being with her completely would do.

But this was all about to change.  Dramatically.  We had booked a weekend away in the Peak District and I knew this was the time where we would find ourselves.  It was Sophie's idea to go away … although inwardly I had been planning on asking her if she fancied a trip.  And with half term coming up, there was an opportunity that could not be missed.  But, like usual, she was the one who took the initiative and asked.  My answer came out in a semi shout, bordering on the manic.  One simple word.  Yes.

So it was the weekend … Three days together … three days alone in a cottage in the middle of nowhere … me and her … her and me.  No phones.  No TV.  No Internet or neighbours.  Her and me.  And I think you get the message.  In other words, I was crapping my pants.  It had become such a big deal now … the expectation of the ultimate gratification.  What if I couldn't satisfy her?  What if she didn't like the taste of me … or the feel of my hands on her?  What if when we were naked she saw that I wasn't as beautiful as she thought I was?  The reality of undressing in front of someone is completely different from the daydreams of casually slipping into something more comfortable.

That was what I wanted more than anything.  Her to be slipping into me and feeling comfortable.  And that doesn't sound quite right …

But you know what I mean.


She picked me up just after six on the Friday night, as she had to go home from school, shower, and change.  I had taken the afternoon off from work, as there was no way I could concentrate on filling forms and dealing with customers who couldn't find their arse with both hands.  The amount of times I packed, unpacked, and then repacked my small bag is not worth mentioning, but I will tell you that it was too many times.  Every thing seemed wrong, even down to the shower gel I was taking seemed huge.  The sound of the door bell dinging sent my nerves into overdrive, and I wanted to repack my back once again … anything just to delay the inevitable moment when she told me I was not what she was looking for.

One and a half hours … we were there.  Pulling up outside the cottage, Sophie turned the CD player off and the silence in the car was almost deafening.  Turning to me, the blue of her eyes looking more like grey, the unspoken question clear.  She was asking me if I was ready, although the words coming from her mouth actually said ‘We're here.'

The smile on my face attempted to be strong and fresh and all enticing, but I knew it was weak … frightened, even.  Hers looked a little wan too … and that made me feel a little bit better, until the flea of doubt shot into my head and I believe it was because she didn't want to see me in the buff.

‘Let's get inside before we freeze to death.'  The smile looked a little stronger and more in control.  I was glad that someone was taking the initiative.

Inside the cottage, it was warm, but it needed more heat.  October wasn't a cold month, but there was always a nip in the air when evening came around.  The front door opened into a hallway, and the hallway showed two doors and one set of stairs.  My eyes followed the trail of each step and slowly mounted them, knowing that at the top lay the room where we spend our first night together.  All night.  And hopefully not sleeping.  And hopefully happy … ecstatic … fulfilled … and contented. 

An audible gulp throbbed from my throat and inside my mouth felt as if it were packed with polystyrene.  I felt her come up close behind me, and I swallowed again.  Then I felt her mouth next to my ear … and the ability to swallow completely left me.

‘How are you fixed for starting a fire?'  Like the one she had started in my gut?  Her voice did all sorts of things to me in normal situations, but when it is so close it teases and tickles my skin, I couldn't help the feeling of complete futility as I get sucked into her power.  I sound like a twat, don't I?  I felt like one too.  I had no control over this situation; being a leader never occurred to me. I could've turned round and captured her mouth with mine … could've tipped her back and kissed her senseless like they do in the movies … picked her up and carried her upstairs where I would make love to her all through the night.  

But I didn't.  I giggled and spurted ‘That tickles.'  What a knob.

Her teeth nibbled my ear and the sensation shot down my neck, back, and right to my groin.  I definitely squeaked … and wondered where the woman I used to be had disappeared to.  I would never have let things like this affect me before.  But then again … none of the other people I had been with mattered as much as she did.

‘Can I leave you …' kiss ‘… to start the fire,' kiss ‘… whilst I …' kiss ‘… get some logs from outside?'  And a longer kiss on the nape of my neck, and I felt myself turning around in her arms, my mouth slightly parted and ready to take her.  I groaned as my lips met hers – couldn't help it.  The wanting was out and inside her mouth before I could stop it and I felt my eyes close as I lost myself in her.  My hands travelled around her waist and slipped up and down her back, pulling her into me.  Her hands were around me too … and I doubt we could have slipped a hair between us, as we stood there in the hallway with the door open kissing each other as if our lives depended on it.

Then she was gone, and I was left gasping in the doorway, my hand on my chest trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

Lighting the fire was a good way to take my mind off my nerves.  I have to admit, the glow made the room look wonderful.  An orangey radiance dipped and plunged, creating shadows on the wall.  Sophie came in with a pile of logs and grinned.  ‘Fancy a glass of something cold?  Or do you need warming up?'

I settled for wine.  I had to.  Just a little something to calm me down.  Honestly, I don't know why I was so nervous; it wasn't as if I hadn't done something like this before.  But it felt like it was, if you know what I mean.  I felt virginal … inexperienced … naïve.  It wasn't the act of making love that made me feel like that; it was the knowledge it was with her … the knowledge that tonight was going to be the night I told her I loved her – stuff the consequences.

As we were sitting on the sofa, the fire our only light, a wave of total contentment drifted over me.  She had her arm around me as I leaned back into her, and it felt the most natural place in the world to be.  Turning to face her, the flames danced in her eyes and her face looked even softer in the half light.  A smile played along her mouth just before she pursed her lips to say something. 

Lifting my finger, I placed it on her mouth and felt a soft kiss land there.

‘Sophie … I … I …'  the words were jamming, yet fighting to get out.  She went to say something again, but I shushed her, my eyes pleading with her to let me say what I needed to say.  ‘I … I … love you.' 

There they were.  Three of them sitting in the air like an offering.  The three small words that were mere air; yet mean nothing … yet everything. It was amazing to watch her acceptance of them.  Her pupils dilated even more than they already were and then her eyes fluttered closed.

‘Thank you, God.'  And then fluttered open to stare into me as if she was exacting a promise … the promise I would not take them back … the promise that the words were hers to keep.  I leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the mouth – just a light kiss, before leaning back to digest her again.  ‘Because Katie Clarke … I have loved you from the minute I saw you.'

That was all it needed.  The breath I had been holding sighed from within me and drifted to her, and then I kissed her again.  This time she kissed me back, her lips claiming mine and pulling me into her.  I wanted her so badly … so badly … so completely.  A haze draped over me and before I knew it, my hands were inside her top, fingers tracing the underside of her breast, itching to slip underneath her bra.

So they did.  The curves were soft, pliant … ready for my touch.  Every stroke I gave was reciprocated by her moans … and the more she moaned the more insistent I became.  Thumbs rolled around the edge of her nipples, the peak of them tantalising and begging me to just take the whole of it into my grasp.

Before I did it, she lifted herself away from me, making my hand freeze.  But then just looked straight into my eyes, almost like she was seeking permission.  So I nodded, not really knowing why.  Swiftly and surely she lowered her hands and grasped the hem of her now dishevelled top and pulled it over her head.  Next came her bra, as she turfed it over the side of the chair leaving her top half naked for my eyes to feast upon.  I copied her, lifting my top up and away, and waiting for her to see what I had to offer.  And that was every thing.

Fingers traced the outline of our breasts, and my mouth watered for the taste of her.  Lowering my head, I flicked out my tongue, catching the tip of her nipple.  The sensation of actually touching it made an ache race downwards, so I did it again.  Firmer.  More assured.  Mouth opening and imprisoning the bud to allow it to flower until it was hard and full. My lips caressed and cajoled; sucked and held until I moved onto the next.  Her hands were in my hair, pulling and twining, and that only spurred me on, making my movements frantic.

Pushing her backwards, it wasn't long before I was laying the full length of her body, my hips between her legs and grinding into her.  The softness of our breasts melded into the other, and the friction from my jeans was driving me mad.  I felt constrained yet liberated at the same time.  I had to have her naked underneath me … naked above me … at the side of me.  I wanted to be inside her, over her, under her … I wanted to crawl inside her mouth and down into her, leaving my mark along the way.  I needed to know I was tattooed from the inside out, and that however hard she tried, she could never truly get rid of me.

Because, you see, she was tattooed so deeply inside of me, I believe she has always been there, and all I had been doing all of my life was waiting.

I couldn't wait.  Couldn't wait.  Couldn't stop and couldn't wait.  My hands fumbled with the button on her jeans, and she did the same.  We both tried to push each other's down at the same time, whilst kissing ardently.  I could feel the air touch my legs and felt it crawl over me as more and more of the material left my body.  The more it went from me, the more it left her too.  Her skin met mine in a wonder of heat, and the awareness of knowing we were skin on skin was enough to drive me over the edge.

‘I love you.'  Her or me, it didn't matter.  It felt as if one said it, the other one had also.  ‘I want you.'  Once again … it didn't matter.  All that mattered was that she was with me now, that I was with her, showing her how much I needed to show her how much I loved her and wanted her.  Always.

Our hips were crashing into each other, and I could feel the wetness coming from her and slipping onto me … or was it the other way around?  I needed to taste her … to feel my fingers slipping inside her … to know that it was my tongue that was bringing her up and over the edge.

Moving down her body, I coated her skin in kisses and caresses.  The taste of her body was like nectar; small droplets of moisture collected in my mouth as I travelled further down towards my goal.  Her stomach was taut, stretching upwards to meet my mouth, and I was trying to devour all of her, my lips stretching open and closing around the malleable flesh.

When my mouth reached between her legs, the moans were coming thick and fast … not just from her.  I had waited so long for this moment, even though everything I had experienced with her had been absolutely wonderful, this was like I was entering paradise.

God.  The taste of her … the smell of her … the thickness of her want coated my tongue and made me want to dive inside her and cover myself with her forever.  But I didn't.  Just a soft stroke ... enough to hear her groan my name into the air.  Another one … gentle … teasing.  Then another … firmer, yet slow.  Her hands wrapped into my hair and I felt her raise her hips to my face, forcing me to take her completely into my mouth.

‘Katie … please.'  The need was hanging between us and I didn't know how long I could keep just taunting her for.  My lips parted, and I imprisoned her clit inside, held it there, and waited.  The throbbing of the bud was electrifying, and as soon as I began to suckle, I felt the charge of something magical race from her to me.  My hands were on her hips; fingers digging into her, pulling her, pushing her, committing to memory the taste and emotion that was drowning all sense of rationality.

One hand sneaked down to join my mouth, the fingers parting her folds, gathering her juices alongside my tongue.  Her breathing was hitching; the sound of her aching throbbing through her and drifting down to me.  A lone digit danced and circled her entrance, and she began to push against it, showing me how much she wanted to feel me inside.  I circled slowly, whilst sucking firmly … my teeth grazing the swollen nub.

A gurgle came from her, and I knew she was trying to ask me to fill her.  So I slipped my finger in … just a little … and waited.  She pushed … I pulled out … I didn't want to rush this … it meant too much.  I wanted her to remember this time as something different; something special, something that involved me showing her I loved her … yearned for her as much as she longed for me.  But I couldn't resist …

The finger was back inside … fully inside, pushing deep inside and the out … then in … then out … then joined by a second finger ….

‘God … yes …'  Her walls were clasping my fingers; they were caressing and hugging and sucking them inwards, and I felt my whole being sucked inside too.  My arm was straining, the muscles hardening with the effort to take her so surely, my shoulder bending and generating the momentum of the movement of filling her deeply. 

I lifted my face away from her, as I needed to see her … needing to know she was mine, even for just that moment …

Blue hooded eyes were watching me.  Blue hooded eyes were digesting my every nuance, taking in my face as I was taking in hers.  Without stopping, I moved up along her body, looking straight into her, as surely as my fingers were moving in and out of her.  Mouths met mouths, adventurous tongues met and teased, the tempo building and building and building …

My fingers were becoming more constrained, as her walls clasped and dragged me into her.  I just pushed, and took and gave all I had; wanting her to give me it all back so I could do it again.  And again.  And for always.

Then it came, like a cleansing, like a tidal wave of knowledge.

‘Katie!  God … I … Katie!'  Her body was thrashing underneath mine, her cumming hard and satisfying, for both her and me.  Nails dug into my back and scraped downwards to my ass, only to stop to allow her hands to pull me into her.  My thigh lifted and pushed my hand to force my fingers as far as they would go inside her, and she emitted a wonderfully magical sound … a sigh, yet a groan, and I nearly tipped over the edge.

Slow strokes from her hands on my back showed me her contentment, and I slipped my fingers from her to glide them over her folds.  Another sigh.  Another jolt inside me.  I was so wet, so bloody wet and ready to take her again, but thought I would wait until she was ready.

No sooner had the thought passed through my head, I felt her shift underneath me, her thigh coming between my legs to press on my need.  I can't explain the feeling.  Can't put into words what it felt like to have her there … can't tell you what the sensation of being touched just there by her felt like … All I knew was that the wetness pouring from me onto her thigh was thick and blinding.  I began to grind myself into her … the friction of the movement culminating to a sensation that I knew I couldn't stop.  Her hands were on my ass, gripping and pulling.  And I was pushing into her, the rhythm increasing until I began to feel myself becoming lost within her.

Her mouth was suckling my neck … my throat … my collarbone, and the world was blurring into some sense of transparency, where I could see through everything, but only ever see her.

The moment her fingers slipped between my legs, I knew that was it … knew as soon as she entered me I would be forever lost to her and only her.  Lifting my hips up, she was in … no teasing … no taunting my swollen clit … just inside deeply.  And over I went … her name falling from my mouth the only thing I could muster.  That and the frantic pounding of my hips and heart.

Sweat coated me … coated her, both of which mingled and morphed into the other making us become one again.  My breathing was ragged … laboured; it was trying to escape, but I was clasping onto it whilst simultaneously throwing it into the air. Then it seemed as all the strength left me and I collapsed onto her, my mouth still claiming hers, just as much as hers was claiming mine.  It was sultry and consuming … perfect and captivating. 

And as I said … I was lost.

We continued to make love after that, again on the sofa, and then we moved to the bedroom above.  The night was filled with the sounds of our connection, and the taste and feel of our love.  What doubts I had harboured before were now sailing in the wind, and I didn't care what the world thought about us … all that mattered was what we thought about each other.

Lying in her arms, I felt an inner peace rest over me.  I don't think I had ever felt so at home in my life, and I doubt I would ever find it again with anyone but her.  The touch of her finger tracing the contour of my nose woke me from my mental meanderings and brought fully back to the here and now.  The finger traced the line between my eyes, across and down, then up and across.  I tilted my head to look at her, and her eyes flooded so much tenderness and love that my heart ached.

‘Even when you had a lump there, you were still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.'  Her lips replaced her finger, and they trickled down the same route.  ‘I had heard so much about you from Ben …' bless ‘that I knew I had to see you for myself.'  A soft kiss landed on my lips, and I wanted it to carry on, but she wanted to tell me more.  ‘And when I looked into your eyes, I knew it … knew you were the one.'

Can you comprehend how that felt?  Can you possibly conceive how my heart banged so hard in my chest I thought it would rip through and dive straight into her?  I hope you can … I hope you too have had the experience of feeling totally in awe and fully completed.

But instead of reciting a speech about how much I loved her, I decided to show her instead.

You don't blame me, do you?


That was four months ago.  My oh my, how the time flies when you are totally and utterly besottedly in love with no chance of parole.  Not that I wanted parole – far from it.  All I wanted was to be with her always … wake up every day next to her … see her smile … watch the way she yawned when she first woke up and scratched the back of her head making her hair stick out.

I wanted to live with her … take care of her … love her … marry her.  But I hadn't asked her yet.  The living with her part, I mean.  And the marrying …  Not that it was an unspoken question every time I looked at her or touched her.  It was always hanging there ready to pop out unexpectedly and hang in the air like a promise of my unwavering desire to take her more fully inside me and my life, even more than I had done so already.

Carrie had asked, well pushed and pushed, if truth be known, for me to just say it, but every time I tried, I stopped.  Doubt, the endless flea, bobbed inside my head and buzzed negative images until I convinced myself that I would be happy just for her to love me now.  I knew I was kidding myself, but I knew I couldn't lose her.  She had never made the move to say it first, and I didn't want to push.

Well.  Until yesterday morning, that is.  Valentine's Day.  The day in which we spill our guts and expose our heart's desire.  And my heart's desire was her… with me … always.

She sent me a dozen red roses first thing in the morning, and as soon as I had read the card I decided that I would do it.  Ask her.  Tell her.  Beg her to come and live with me.  And I would do it that night.

When she arrived I was a bag of nerves … and I mean a bag of nerves, almost like a bag of giblets.  My words were coming out wrong and I kept on forgetting what I was saying half way through – and that was when I was asking if she wanted a drink.  God only knew how I would be when I was popping the question.

Now.  I know you think I'm a drama queen … don't blame you.  I am beginning to think the same thing about myself.  All I was doing was asking her to consider moving in with me … or even just move some of her things to stay at my house – you know, keep her toothbrush company.  But like everything I do in my life, it is never that simple.

I waited for the right opportunity … waited until she was laughing at some stupid joke I had said … I had to make sure she was in a good mood, didn't I?  I know you are thinking ‘No!  You are doing it all wrong!  You should have wooed her … made love to her … showered her with gifts … got down on one knee …'

Well, in a way I did.  Got down on one knee that is.  But not in the usual way that one person would get down on one knee, if you can play with the image.  It was a total me again.

After I had told my joke, and gauged her reaction, I dived in.  Literally.  I wanted to be seated in front of her instead of pratting about standing there imitating an irate customer, when it happened.  I tripped.  Over the rug in front of the fireplace … and fell at her feet.  Talk about bringing metaphors to life!  I was there on my knees looking up into her startled face when the words just came out.  All four of them.  In a rush …

‘Will you marry me?'

Shit.  I only wanted to ask her to move in … there was no way she would go for that … it was too soon …

But I couldn't take it back; I had to take the shame.

She just looked at me, her mouth hanging open, and shock apparent.  I knew it was coming … the golden knock back … the one said in a nice way usually delivered a couple of weeks before they broke up with you, with a ‘I only wanted something fun …' tagged onto the end of it.


And then they would avoid your calls and cross the street to get away from you …


Then it would be you hanging about outside where they worked until the police were called and you had a restraining order slammed so hard on you that you would be bruised for the rest of your life.

Yes?  What was she …

‘Yes.'  Her voice was soft, but higher than the previous times she had said the same word.  I think she knew I was mortified, as when I finally came into some sort of consciousness her face showed her concern.  ‘Unless you have changed your mind already.'

‘Yes?'  I couldn't raise my voice to higher than a squeak.  Couldn't.  I even tried to say it again in a deeper tone, but it was definitely a squeak.

‘Yes.  I would love to marry you, Katie Clarke.'

That was it.  I was up and on top of her sealing her promise with a kiss so hard I felt my front teeth move … and hers for that matter.  I didn't want to release her, as I was too scared that if she actually got the function back of her voice she would change her mind and say that she had made a mistake.  And if she hadn't started to laugh and push me away, I think I would still be there.

Today I went round to my parents to tell them of the news, and to say they were delighted would be an understatement.  But the star of the show has to be Ben.  He couldn't contain his excitement, his first words were ‘I always wanted you to marry her', once again proving that sometimes kids know things we don't … stuff the grey areas – black and white seems like a good way to go.  And grey is definitely not my colour when it comes to Sophie.

So, dear reader.  There is my tale up to now.  We haven't decided on a date yet, but we will do.  We are too busy walking on air to consider the little things like when it will actually happen.

And it is up to you to decide whether you think it is a big deal … whether my story affected you or not.  But as you can gather, it did affect me … and it still feels like five minutes ago.  Time with Sophie always seems so fresh and new.

One final thing before I leave you to continue the rest of your life.  Don't be put off by what life throws at you … and however hard it hits; there is always a bright side.  Even if you are hit between the eyes with a discus – the arrow maybe planting itself right on target, just underneath your left breast and a little to the right.

Because life is something we can never be prepared for.  So just live it.

The End

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