fingersmith_right_between_the_eyes

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~ Right Between the Eyes ~
by Fingersmith

Synopsis:

Sport's Day. The day Katie Clarke met the beautiful, yet desperately annoying, 'Miss Jefferson'. The day that her life was turned upside down and inside out. The day that she realised that life could definitely throw the pleasure / pain theory into the loop. But is it a day in which she would repeat over and over again?

Disclaimers: Yep. Ladies getting to grips with love … and maybe a little more. They do resemble a couple of gorgeous women from a well-known TV show, but I have tried to make then a little mine in the process.

Sex: Erm. Cough. Erm. Blushing furiously. A little bit … or maybe a lot … you decide. And its between two ladies … therefore, if you are underage or it is illegal where you are I'm sorry. But I bet you'll read it anyway .

Violence: A warning … kids are cruel. But in this case its not intentional … or is it?

Thanks: To my beta readers, who tell me to get a grip and get on with it. Thank you for treating me like family .

Also a big thanks to you, the reader, who give me fantastic feedback and the want to keep on writing. Also thank you to all the fantastic writers out there who have given me hours of joy.

If you like what you have read, drop me a line. Warning. I am extremely sensitive … I can cry on demand. Grin.

mailto:fingersmith@hotmail.co.uk

Or if you want to check out my published work … under LT Smith …

http://www.pdpublishing.com/smith.html

It happened a while back, but I guess it still feels like it happened five minutes ago. Nothing major … don't panic. Well, when I say nothing major, what I really mean is nothing that will affect you. Because, you see … it affected me. A lot. Very much… too much in fact. And as I said … it feels like five minutes ago.

It all started in such a subtle way that before I knew it I was lost. Lost. Yep … lost in the way where you are lost and don't even realise it. Are you thinking that this is going to be a tale of love that has become sour, or that one has bunked off and left the other to rot? Maybe it is, and then again, maybe you are so wide off the mark you can't even see the target or where the arrow was meant to hit.

Well. I can tell you where it hit. Right between my bloody eyes. Did I catch you out? Were you thinking 'Bugger. Get the hankies'? Hopefully you won't need them - but then again …

Let me start afresh, and tell you what actually happened. Ready? Stand on the start line ... crouch … prepare yourself …

And we're off …

************************************************

Sport's Day was not one of my favourite days for many reasons. Seeing kids juggle spoons and eggs was not my idea of a 'fun filled' day. Torture was more like it - and not just for me. Have you ever witnessed two kids strapped together with a piece of rope and run down a stretch of grass amongst the cheers of competitive parents? I should imagine it's what I look like whilst running to catch the last bus home after a night at the pub. Believe me. Not a good sight. Sack races … hurdles … high jump … shot put … all performed in the rain at the end of term. And there was me … Aunty Katie, waiting on the side to see my little nephew, Ben, run like crazy with a golf ball representing an egg, which precariously danced on a spoon, as he legged it like a crippled gazelle towards the finish line.

The worst thing was I didn't even want to be there (I think you got that already). If it wasn't for the fact my sister had a job interview I would have been at home on my day off with my feet up watching shite on the telly. But no. I had to volunteer. I mean, how can you say no to a little tear stained faced looking at you adoringly … beseechingly … covered in snot. Even I wasn't that heartless.

Didn't know about the rain then though. Snot or no snot, it would have definitely been a 'Sorry, Ben. I've got to go into the office. You do understand don't you?' as I was ramming a fiver in his direction. But the English weather, although changeable, loves to surprise, as us Brits never expect it. Sad, but true. And it didn't show its ugly side until I was standing waiting for the race before Ben's to begin. Thoughts about suing the local education authority came into my head. I'm not so concerned about myself, and the fact I was pissed wet through, it was the thought that if one of the little darlings tripped over their shoelaces it would be goodnight Vienna for peace and tranquillity. This could scar them for life. Imagine the shame of a gob full of mud and the agony of a sprained knee. Not a pretty picture is it? Especially when it's accompanied by the deafening sound only a child can make when in pain.

But. The rain stopped. And so did we - but my whinging continued.

When Ben was standing at the line, looking like Tiger Woods gone mad, my heart lifted in my mouth. I admit. It was exciting. I wanted him to win so much … wanted all the other kids to drop their balls and stand there looking dazed so he would get a head start and fly over the winning line victorious. And when I spotted my parents standing on the other side of the hundred-metre line, I didn't even go crackers and demand why they were there when it had been made apparent he would have been stranded without me.

Looking back, I should have left then. Less painful in the long run - in more ways than one.

But. I stayed. Watched Ben struggle forward, 'egg' on spoon … spoon sans 'egg' and then on again. It's amazing that I didn't swear as he was inching it up the track, face dazed in thought and concentration. For eight years old, he looked like an old man who has just realised he is no longer constipated and the toilet is one hundred metres away from him. My heart was in overdrive; my mouth was too. The screaming coming from the sidelines made the world cup final seem positively tame.

Fourth. That's where he came. Fourth. For all my shouting and screaming and dancing and jumping up and down, he came fourth. My parents were there at the finish line, mum using her usual line about Moses coming forth and winning a teapot. I know. I never really got the point either. But I was more concerned about Ben - I knew he was seconds away from crying. Experience told me that he was more disappointed that I had witnessed his losing, than the actual losing, if you know what I mean.

'Never mind, Tiger…' I should have thought through the usual nickname I gave him, as the golf ball on his spoon started to shake. 'I thought you were perfect.' The sniff was loud, not dramatic, but full of welling disillusionment bordering on frustration … not me, him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and bent down so I could be just that little bit shorter than him. Green eyes, so like my sister's, looked back - full green eyes, glistening with the tears I knew were imminent. 'I blame the …' I lifted the spoon from his hand and turned it over, the golf ball plopping helplessly on the grass, 'Sheffield steel.' I smiled at him. 'Never trust a Yorkshire man.'

The snort that escaped him was delightful; he knew I said that to make him laugh. His dad was a Yorkshire man … and he loved him to bits and pieces. But after laughter came the tears, and he threw his arms around my neck and cried. I looked at my parents who were pulling 'aww' faces, before I snuggled him more firmly into me.

'Ben's a puff.' My eyes snapped open to see two girls standing behind him, arms linked, hair in pigtails, looking the entire world like the Kray Twins. I swallowed the urge to respond in a less than lady like manner and just pulled him closer to me. 'Crying like a big girl's blouse cos he didn't win.'

I couldn't help it. I swear. No, I didn't swear, I just looked the tallest one in the eye and said, 'But he's not crying because he lost.'

'Katie.'

My mum knew that I wouldn't let it go and tried to stop me. 'He's crying because someone told him you fancied him.' The look of mortification on her face was priceless, especially when the other Kray, Ronnie, I think, started laughing. 'He's just getting over the shock.' I know it wasn't that bad, but I also knew it would be round the school like lightning - Ronnie would see to it. Their disappearing bodies, and actions of trying to pull away from each other, laid claim to that.

Standing up, I placed a kiss on Ben's cheek before ruffling his hair. 'Come on champ. Let's see who's about.' Hand in hand we left my parents arguing who was going to queue up for tea and walked without talking.

Fifteen minutes went by, and still not a word. It wasn't until we reached the far side of the field that I felt his hand grip mine more tightly. Looking down at him, I saw his streaked face break into a huge grin. Following the direction of his look, I felt myself stop in my tracks.

Standing near a table, clipboard in hand was a sight for sore eyes. Tall … dark … and positively sex on legs. I felt my insides shoot up into my mouth just so they could moisten my tongue. A vision. That's all I could say about her. And the light sprinkling down on her made her seem almost angelic. Maybe it was the sun, or maybe it was the light-headed feeling I was experiencing that made the outline of her seem blurred, like I was looking at her through a camera lens and the glass had been smeared with Vaseline.

But the feeling in my stomach didn't support it. It felt light. Heavy. Twisted and churned … and most definitely yearning. I had an over powering urge to walk over to her and kiss her, but I think the reception from that little action would be less than appetising. Probably leave me with a black eye … or a court order. However, there was no way I could move away from her without at least knowing her name.

'That's Miss Jefferson,' Ben's voice seeped into my head.

Or at least talking to her. Trust kids to push you for another reason.

'She's really nice.' I know, Ben … I know. And as I was thinking these thoughts, my legs decided they could move quite quickly when they wanted to, and before I knew it I was standing before her doing an excellent impression of a fish. I wanted to charm her, you know, give her the smile and the look that would do all the work for me, but no … I just gawped and swallowed and failed to anything constructive. 'This is my Aunty Katie.' Thank you, Ben. You may go. 'She's single.' And also glowing in embarrassment.

'Really?' The voice could melt concrete. What's harder than concrete? Well, it would melt that too. I could even hear the hint of a smile in her response and my lips followed suit. 'You must be so proud.' And then the laugh. Not any kind of laugh, but a deep timbered one that was rich and fulfilling … a laugh that held no malice, but was just filled with light.

I was mesmerised. The way she tilted her head and closed her eyes when she delivered the musical sound was captivating. But that paled in comparison when she looked at me.

God.

Did I say looked at me? I meant to say looked through me … into me, more to the point. I felt so exposed at that moment, so transfixed by those blue eyes everything paled in comparison … the world faded away. And it was at this precise moment that the idyllic situation decided enough was enough. Time to fuck it all up.

It was the expression on her face that should have warned me. But no. I had to be the grinning idiot with no other thought than wanting to keep on grinning so she would smile in return. But the smile I had witnessed had changed, as if by slow motion. The lips that were crooked and adorably bent into a smile were now opening and changing into a sort of open-mouthed plea of sorts. I just smiled wider until the penny dropped and I squinted slightly. This was over a matter of seconds, but it felt as if it lasted hours - and if that were the case, then maybe I would have escaped the next part.

No.

Although I wish I had.

I followed her gaze and turned my head, which now felt like an apple on a stick. BANG! Apple off aforementioned stick and falling backwards. Something black and hard had hit me straight in the face - right between the eyes to be precise. Everything in my mind seemed to shoot straight out of the back of it, leaving my head full of whiteness and the front full of pain. It didn't knock me out, just made me stagger and grip my nose - the same nose in which something hot, wet and sticky was now pumping through at a hundred miles an hour. Pulling my hand away, I saw blood pooling in my hand …

The ground beneath my feet seemed to be approaching my face rapidly, and it was no shock to find myself crumpled in a heap, grass antagonising my nose and moisture slipping along my cheek. Then nothing. The world escaped me … blackness took over the pain and the blood and the grass, and I was out like the bedtime candle. Puff.

***********************************************

Aching eyes opened to be greeted by faces surrounding me, Ben's the closest as he was lying on the ground next to me. I tried to get up quickly, but the pain in my face made me cringe.

'Stay still.' It was the voice of Miss Jefferson, and through all the soreness pounding through my bones, I could still feel warmth in it. 'You'd better not move until the First Aid woman looks you over.'

So, I lay there. My facial tenderness growing in might by the second, and by the feel of it underneath my fingers, also growing in size. I must have looked like John Merrick … elephant man of Manchester reincarnated. The dip where I used to call the bridge of my nose was absent. All I could feel was a huge lump the size of a golf ball replacing it. A bloody sore golf ball, like one had been inserted through my nostril and poked into place by a shitty stick. I did wonder if I had fallen on Ben's golf ball when I went down like a sack of spuds …

Eventually, a woman turned up, bag in hand and a face like a slapped arse. Yes, I know - I had room to talk. But she hadn't been hit in the face with an unidentified flying object had she.

'She was hit in the face with a discus …' Thanks to Miss Jefferson, at least I knew what had pinned me. 'She was ok until she saw the blood … then she fainted.' Ah shit. That's the last thing I wanted someone to think - especially her. I mean, how can you act in control and charming and be the thing they have been searching for their whole lives, when you pass out at the sight of blood? And I was doing so well until then. 'No. She wasn't paying attention. I tried to warn her …' Bollocks did she. A grimace followed by a whistling sound through her teeth after I had been clobbered does not equate to a warning. I wanted to say something, but at that moment the first aid woman decided it was time to poke my lump, and it took all my energy not to tell her to get her fucking poking grubby short nailed lesbian fingers off my mother fucking face. All I can say is it was a good job my nephew was there, as I would definitely not been in control of my mouth.

Then came the torch … flick on … flick off … flick on … fuck off … Jesus. How many times can a person aggravate another person in the space of five minutes? I could have told her I didn't have concussion. All I had was a huge headache and a bloody painful face.

'Looks like concussion.' The woman harrumphed and poked harder. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down to deliver what I thought to be a killer look. 'See? Weak as a kitten … sign of something amiss.' All this time she had not directed anything to me … not even a 'Can you tell me where it hurts?' I know it was pretty obvious, but I still didn't like her professionalism. I could feel a letter of complaint forming in my head - and it didn't look good for the Florence Nightingale 'wannabe' with fingers of a builder and the bedside manner of Dr Crippen.

At the precise moment I was about to deliver a recited version of my impending letter, my parents turned up. The look of concern was brief, before my mother started to laugh. I knew she didn't mean anything by it, and I also knew she was doing it from nerves more than anything, but still … I was expecting the line of 'is your face hurting? Well, its killing me' to come out, but they spared me that at least. The words 'adoption', popped into my head for a fleeting moment, before I decided to glean all the pity I could from them - just to make them feel bad, of course, not because I was a mard arse.

I had them. Like putty in my hand. My mother's eyes welled a little, I think out of guilt more than pity, and she leaned over me to check my eyes. 'They look dull and lifeless.' Thanks mum. 'She'd better go to A and E.' Why didn't anyone bother to speak to me about it? I was here after all?

Just as I was about to refuse to go, I heard Miss Jefferson make a suggestion. And that suggestion implied she was more than willing to drive me there, stay with me, and then take me home again. As if I could refuse an offer like that. I didn't care that my face was throbbing like a rugby player's testicles after a tackle … I was going to get 'me' time with a woman I was attracted to. Stuff the six-hour wait on plastic chairs, the burnt coffee, and the bloke who wandered aimlessly in his pyjamas. I was going to have a prime opportunity to charm the socks (and other material layers) off Miss Jefferson.

And for a fleeting moment I believed it was worth being caned in the face by a flying disc of agony.

In retrospect, I must have had concussion.

***********************************************

Ben went with my parents, although he protested wildly that he wanted to make sure I was ok. Finally I convinced him that is was a waste of time all of us going to the hospital, and he was the only one who could give his mother a full account of why I wasn't with him. He looked over at his grandparents and I knew he was thinking 'Why on earth can't they tell her?'

So I whispered in his ear 'Never trust people who are always grinning.' At that point, he looked back at them, and there they were, grinning like the Cheshire cat and nodding supportively. 'See what I mean?' He nodded at me and gave me a wink.

'Consider it done.' He pushed his hand into mine to seal the deal and then he was off, gripping their hands and pulling them away. 'Come on. We got news to spill.' One last turn, another wink and they were gone.

'Let's get you sorted then.' Miss Jefferson was standing behind me: handbag and coat in one hand, car keys in the other. I actually caught myself giving her the once over, and the worst of it was, I think she caught me doing it. A blush, only a slight one, crept up her neck and spread over her face in the most delightful way, that I wanted to comment on it just to see the shade go darker. I tried to lift an eyebrow up but winced, my hand gently touching the ever-increasing mound of misery that was throbbing unceremoniously between my eyes. I squinted at the pain, and then felt a hand on my arm … a tender touch that allowed sparks of recognition to race through my body.

My head shot up quickly and I winced again, but this time kept my eyes open. She was looking at me with such gentleness and concern that I felt the inner workings inside my chest squeeze tightly. Blue eyes held mine for a few moments, and try as I might, I couldn't look away. All the pain in my head seemed to disappear at that instant, and I didn't care for lumps and bumps or anything. All that mattered was being here … right here, at this precise moment. No pain could replace the ultimate sensation of perfection I was feeling … I didn't care for setting or situation - all that mattered was …

'You look awful. Your face is growing to the size of a basketball.'

Moment over. And in the usual fashion, I felt embarrassed. And when I feel embarrassed I usually say things I don't mean - maybe to cover up the fact I'm embarrassed in the first place. Too many 'embarrasseds' there, I believe, but hey … that was the emotion of the minute.

'Don't you think I can feel that?' The words shot out, and so did my hand, which snatched her hand off my arm and half flung it at her. 'And the last thing I need is to be reminded.' With that, my little legs stormed off and across the field. For someone who had just been smacked by a piece of sporting equipment I was definitely sprightly enough. And a little bit annoyed. And when I'm annoyed, I mutter … mutter words that would never be deemed proper in any decent social situation, never mind a field full of kids.

I didn't even turn round to see if she was coming. Just raced onwards to the car park and then stopped. I didn't know which car was hers and it was at that precise moment I regretted walking to the school believing it was good for my health. A lot of good that did me. A walk that ended up with a visit to A and E … very healthy.

'You waiting for me?' Her voice had the edge that screamed 'smug', but I didn't want to bite. What I did want was to be at home and away from this mess.

'I was just thinking …' a pause, a pretence at thought … 'that I think I'll be ok. Don't think I need to get this checked out.'

'You are not getting out of it.' She marched up to me and towered over. 'I said I would take you to the hospital …' her hand gripped my arm, 'and that's exactly where you are going. Whether you like it or not.'

The urge to go ape shit and declare my freedom was overpowering. And I would have too, but the look on her face so bloody close up told me that I wouldn't win. Now there were two things I could do at this moment. One … I could fight back and tell her I didn't know the post of my jailer had been filled. Or secondly I could just get it over and done with, suck air and take it like a bitch.

She was still glaring at me, the soft face of the concerned was gone and here stood nearly six foot of power. The look she was giving me said that there was no way she was going to back down on this either. We were either at an impasse or I could be the bigger person. I liked the thought of that. There were not many times I could be seen to be the bigger person - probably because at this moment I was approximately six inches shorter than her, face of Joe Bugner and a headache eking up the back of my neck and spreading like spilt oil over my head. Yeah … 'bigger person' sounded good to me.

A cough. From me. Another cough. From her. Then I coughed again, and brought my hand to cover my mouth before asking 'Which one's yours?' in a muffled kind of way.

She pointed over my shoulder and I saw the biggest four by four I had ever seen in my life. A teacher driving what they term as the ultimate 'kiddie killer'. I was going to love taking the piss out of her for this.

I turned back and gave her a weak smile (anything more and my head would have kicked off again), before beginning to walk over to the beast parked over two spaces. Two. And when I was standing at the door looking disapprovingly over the metal monster, I wondered why it had taken her so long to get it unlocked. It wasn't until I heard a car on the other side of this one start up, that I realised she was sat in a Toyota Yaris and waiting for me to get my act together.

'Why on earth are you waiting next to that? You not into those are you?'

Bollocks.

***********************************************

The journey was completed in silence. Not even the radio to break the tension, and believe me, there was a lot of tension. Tension thick enough to slice through. But unfortunately, I had left my 'knife to cut through tension' at home, as I didn't think I would need it. Shows how much I know, doesn't it.

Even when we arrived at the hospital, parked and walked over to A and E … still nothing. It wasn't until we got to the reception area that I actually heard the sound of her voice again. Momentarily, I was stunned at the musical quality of it, but then I realised that she was actually telling the people what was the matter with me.

'I can speak for myself.' I didn't mean it to come out that sharp, but it was out. I didn't mean to half shove her out of the way - but I did. And when she called me a 'nasty piece of work' under her breath, I just glared then gave her a cocky grin before turning to the woman on the desk.

As I was giving my details I could hear her huffing behind my back and couldn't resist a smug grin to achingly sneak over my face. The receptionist took down my details and what I thought may be the matter and informed me I should take a seat on the chairs in the 'lounge' area. By the time I had turned around, Miss Jefferson had already gone and was sitting on a chair in the corner. For a fleeting moment I did feel bad, as all she had done was put herself out for my ungrateful ass. Taking a deep breath, I ventured forward.

'Look … Miss … erm …' I couldn't keep calling her Miss Jefferson. It sounded like a line from Tenko. 'Let's start again shall we?' I stuck my hand out in gesture and watched as her eyes went down to it and then back to my face. 'I'm Katie. Katie Clarke.' I could see she was wary of the complete turn around in my attitude … the way her hand hovered towards mine, pulled back and then made a snatching motion paid claim to that. But as soon as her hand entered mine I felt something race through me. Electricity … or tension ... or apprehension ... or bloody something that I couldn't quite explain. My head shot up and looked her straight in the face, and I knew in that split second that she had felt it too.

'Erm …' Her throat was bobbing up and down, and I knew she was trying to continue but couldn't for some reason. Unfortunately, I was in the same boat. The power to join one word to another and come up with a complete sentence escaped me. My head had the quality of fudge, or rice pudding, and the thick stodginess swarmed and throbbed and pushed all common sense out of the window. I didn't even seem to have the ability to let go of her hand - just gripped it tighter, like I wasn't going to relinquish it until I had a formal introduction.

Blue eyes looked imploringly at me, and green eyes looked imploringly back. It felt as if we were two dogs copulating and had reached the stage where they are stuck and need a bucket of cold water thrown over them.

'Can I just do a quick examination?' The sound of the male nurse's voice broke through the fog that had descended over me, but it still took me what seemed like forever to turn and acknowledge his presence. 'Before you go in …' He was waiting for a response, but I couldn't do it. 'Check your eyes and …' his voice drifted off to create a stalemate.

It must have only been seconds, but it bloody felt like longer before I squeaked out a response and he pointed to the chair motioning me to sit down. Miss Jefferson didn't utter a word - just leaned forward and picked up a magazine, which probably dated back to the early 80s. And when he told me to move my head to the side, I could see her staring at the pages. I knew from old that she wasn't taking in anything she was reading. Not even digesting the pictures, if she was anything like me.

Inside my head I kept on reliving the sensation. What was it? I had never experienced anything like it before …

'Fuck me!' Now, that I had.

'Sorry about that … my finger slipped.' Bet it did. The nurse had tried to open my eye wider so he could shine his torch inside and pushed my lump to the side. What was it with the medical profession and torches anyway? Tears were streaming from one eye by this time making my vision blurred. But even though one of them was blurry, the other was wide-awake and taking note of everything else. I hadn't seen her initial response to my expletive, but I sure as hell could see her now. She was looking at me with such concern I felt a little ache rise and fall in my chest, and I had the urge to take her hand to let her know I was ok.

'Someone will be out to get you soon.' I just wanted him to fuck off. 'Maybe a couple of hours.' She was looking at me and I couldn't help but zone out a little. 'Or a couple of days.' His voice showed he was pissed off with my spaced out approach to his medical attention. I wanted to explain that I was acting the way I was because of a blow to the head, but deep down I knew I would be lying. I also knew that I had to acknowledge his presence … thank him for jabbing me senselessly and making my head throb. Just what I had always wanted - pain added to more pain.

'Thank you, doctor.' I knew damn well he wasn't a doctor, but it didn't hurt to butter them up a bit, did it? His mouth opened and closed as if he was going to contradict me, but he just nodded, straightened his back and tried to look the ultimate professional before sauntering off with his clip chart.

After he had gone, it was quiet once more. A strange quiet. A quiet where you know it should be uncomfortable, but isn't.

'Sophie.'

I turned to look at her, and she was looking at her lap before turning her face to mine. 'Sophie Jefferson.' Her gaze was intent, but I could see the inkling of a smile forming around her lips. Then a hand pushed out towards me. It was weird, but for a moment I hesitated. I wondered if I would get the 'sensation' again when I touched her, and I wasn't too sure if I wanted to experience it again. Mainly because it freaked me out a little - not because it was unpleasant. Far from it, in fact. But it still freaked me out. Well, it would do, wouldn't it? How would you like the feeling of electricity … or whatever it was, racing through you? Didn't think so.

But. I took the plunge. My hand shot out and I gripped onto hers to make the handshake short and sweet, but bugger me ... it happened again. Right up the arm, along my chest and down to the pit of my stomach. And I haven't even mentioned the other little sparks that travelled up the base of my neck and their friends that definitely went further south. Nevertheless, I held on, smiled and nodded. And so did she, until the time arrived where we thought it was ok to actually let go without making a scene.

Then quiet again. For a little while at least. I watched as she leaned over and grabbed the magazine she had been reading again and open it randomly. Taking stock from the action, I picked up the next on the pile and did the same thing. Good Housekeeping had some lovely pictures of recipes in there, but I couldn't quite grasp the method bit. Not because I was becoming delirious because of the crack to my head. Not even because I was having difficulty seeing it because of the swelling. It was more because I was totally aware of the woman sitting next to me. I wanted to make conversation, but couldn't think of a single thing to say. I could've mentioned the accident, asked her what she did at the school, interrogated her about her love life … but I did none of these things. All I did was steal sly looks when I thought she wasn't looking. And the funny thing was I am sure she was doing the same thing as me, but couldn't guarantee it. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

We spent about ten minutes turning pages and saying nothing. Then, thankfully, she broke the silence. I knew it was coming, as I saw her close the magazine and hold it against her lap for a moment before turning slightly my way. I continued to pretend I was engrossed in reading about how to make flaky pastry even flakier, even nodding in agreement to add character and depth to my charade. But then I felt and saw her lean forward and slip the magazine back onto the pile. Something in my stomach jittered and danced about and even had the audacity to try and snake its way up into my chest. Before I knew it, I was trying to control my breathing.

'Are you in pain?' Her voice seemed closer than I remember her sitting, and as I turned, her face was right next to mine. 'Hooo!' She jumped back slightly, my closeness making her realise she was a little too close. 'You ok?'

I looked at her, my face conjuring up a questioning expression that either asked 'do I look all right?' or 'what do you mean?'

'You seemed to sway then. You feeling dizzy?'

Just a minute. It was her, not me, that had been too close. Talk about passing the buck. And I was just about to say the very same thing to her, but she stopped me in my tracks. Nope. She didn't say anything. The connection was far more than verbal. It was only a small thing, but it stopped me getting my knickers in a twist again. She cupped my face. Cupped it so gently as if it was made of porcelain and would break or disintegrate if she applied more pressure. Her thumb rested on my cheek and moved so slightly, I am surprised I felt it. But I did. And it felt wonderful. Even though she had turned my face to hers and was looking intently in my eyes, I didn't feel weird. I felt right … I felt … at home there.

'Your left pupil is slightly bigger than your right. That doesn't look good.' I didn't care she was only checking my pupils either … unlike usual. I just wanted her to keep on checking them. 'Do you feel safe sitting? Or do you want …' She paused, briefly, 'erm … or do you want me to hold onto you?' Her face flushed and her eyes began to blink rapidly. 'You know … like sit back and I'll support you?'

Inside I was singing. Inside I was dancing and shouting 'Yes please!' Inside I was running into her arms and getting myself comfortable for the duration, as long as the duration would last. But in reality I said 'If you want' and shrugged.

It was weird that I felt I wanted to be in her arms after only knowing her for a couple of hours, but I did. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world to lean forward and allow her to put her arm around me. When she pulled me closer, I felt a sigh slip through my lips and waft into the air in total contentment. Thankfully, it wasn't a loud one. My head was on her shoulder in no time and I felt the world right itself once again, my eyes closing with ease.

It was perfect.

The next thing I remember was waking up to someone shaking me, and not too gently at that. Lifting my head, I became acutely aware of my face being next to her bosom. But that wasn't the embarrassing part. The embarrassing part came as I lifted my head away from the aforementioned soft part and I felt the stream of saliva leave my mouth too. One end in my mouth: the other attaching itself to her top. It looked like a silvery tightrope and I knew I was balancing on the precipice of the utter loss of street cred of any description.

I shot backwards and nearly fucked off the chair in the process. Sophie grabbed my jacket and pulled me to her and I landed head first in the wet patch. Talk about facing your shame. And it hurt too. My swollen face meshed with her chest at speed and didn't allow me time to ready myself for the soaring pain shooting throughout my head.

'Ah FUCK! Fuck it … fuck … it!' There was pain involved. What do you expect me to say? My, that smarts a tad? Didn't think so. But the rest of the waiting room did. I could hear their moans about vitriolic display from Quasimodo in the corner, and that just got my bile up even worse. If it hadn't been for Sophie touching my arm, I know for a fact the previous utterances would have been classed as tame in comparison. The anger just went. Disappeared. And I was left like a lamb.

'Poor girl.' And it wasn't sarcastic either. The words tripping gracefully and delicately from her mouth were full of concern and tenderness. 'They are ready to see you now. Do you want me to come with you?' My face was throbbing and rebelling against all the action it had received over the course of the day, but my mouth felt numb.

'You can't come in, love. You have to wait here.' The nurse spoke quietly, almost intimately to us, and I felt a pang of sadness. I wanted Sophie to come with me. Not because I was a scaredy cat, but because I just didn't want to leave her. I thought that if I walked through the doors she would go, or be snatched away never to be seen again. It was more like a feeling than a thought … I didn't want her to go - not ever. And on that note I began to feel a little freaked out. What was the matter with me? I was not the kind of person who instantly fell head over heels for someone. So why was I acting like a love struck teenager.

Concussion. Had to be. Feeling of insecurity based on the blow to the head. I wasn't in my right mind, that's all. But looking into her eyes - those twinkling blue eyes, I knew I had never felt so 'in my right mind' in all my life.

'I'll be here waiting for you when you've finished. Don't worry.' It was as if she had read my mind, and on that note I felt myself stand up and begin to back away from her, not wanting to break the eye contact. She just stared at me - right in the eyes, a look of startled puzzlement shading her features. When the plastic chair met the back of my legs, I knew it was time to go - turn round and go. But it didn't stop me checking over my shoulder before I entered the double doors just to make sure she hadn't left already. Blue eyes just looked straight back at me and I knew it would be ok.

***********************************************

After what seemed a lifetime, they finished poking and prodding me. The nurses were a mixed bag- some nice - some downright surly, but I think you get that in all professions. I was asked why I didn't apply an ice pack to my face to try and reduce the swelling, and I thought back to the git of a first aid woman at the school. I really wanted to grass her up big time, but I didn't. Not that she didn't deserve it - more because I wanted to get everything over and done with so I could leave.

It wasn't until they had finished cleaning the blood off my face that I could my see the reflection in the glass of a machine next to my cubicle. I thought it was the glass that was distorted. Then I realised I really did look like John Merrick. The lump between my eyes made my face grotesquely out of shape; my top lip lifted and my eyes look piggy. The colours were also reflected as a deep purple and red. The worse thing was I was just day dreaming about Sophie and how I would ask her if she fancied grabbing a coffee or seeing a movie sometime. I didn't even know if she was gay or not, but it didn't hurt to ask. But after seeing how hideous I looked there was no way she would even look twice at me. And that bit hurt even more than all the discuses in the world. Self pity flooded throughout me, and I felt my shoulders slump in abject rejection.

'Right. You're free to go.' Trust me to get a cheerful nurse just as I was at the point where I wanted to be spoken to by someone as miserable as me. 'Only a slight concussion. You need to get someone to keep his or her eye on you. Have you anyone at home?'

Talk about rubbing it in. Kick me when I'm down, why don't you? But instead of saying that, I just shook my head and felt like a social pariah. 'We could keep you in overnight if that would help?'

I felt like a charity case. Poor little single girl with no one to look after her when she's poorly sick and can't eat custard.

'I'll go to my parents.' The sentence came out low, almost an admittance of still being dependant on my parents. The nurse, not taking the hint that I didn't want to talk about it asked me to repeat it. 'I'll go to my parents.' This time everyone heard me, and it sort of echoed too. I could see people turning my way and knew they were thinking I had a face only a mother could love.

And that's what pissed me off. I should have ignored them and gleefully announced I would burden myself on the folks, but I was feeling extremely fragile and vulnerable at that moment. Unfortunately. For both me, and the poor unsuspecting Sophie who was watching with a smile at the other side of the door. The smile that disappeared when I came storming out, hastily putting on my jacket and marching towards the exit.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking I'm a right baggage … easily angered and a pain in the arse. But you see … I am usually none of these things. I know I like to have a moan about stuff I don't want to do, like standing out in the rain watching kids in their Persil whites racing down a muddy track … or even tormenting a couple of kids who deserve it. But nastiness? Never. And anger? Nope. Not my style.

'Hey! Wait up!' I could hear her racing behind me and something deep down told me to stop walking. So, I just stood there and waited for her to catch up. My back was rigid and I had adopted the stance of someone who had shut off the outside world - become almost clinical, if you will. 'What's up? What did they say?' She was a little breathless, and I knew she actually wasn't, just making a show of it, if you know what I mean?

Swallowing a couple of times, I turned and looked straight at her. Such a beautiful face, the complete opposite of mine. And then there was that pain again … situated right behind my ribcage to the left. More of an ache really, and that ache became a sob that climbed up the back of my throat and slipped through my lips in a muffled moan. Thankfully, I think she thought I was upset because of the pain.

'Why are you upset? What did they say?' Maybe not. 'Do you have concussion?'

Once again I swallowed the ache, as looking at her standing there so bloody beautiful and healthy and out of my reach, I knew I had to do something. And from the dark recesses I delved and searched and finally brought up a smile that is always saved for situations beyond our control.

'Just a little one.' And then I actually emitted a small laugh. 'Got to go and stay with my parents tonight. How embarrassing.'

Her eyebrows furrowed before she said 'Have you no one at home that could take care of you?' Then they unfurrowed again before she finished with 'Like a flatmate or something?'

I shook my head and pouted trying to attempt humour. 'Nope. Just me in all my singleness.'

Sophie grinned. Widely. 'Well. To your parents then,' before gripping my arm, spinning me round and leading me to the car park.

In hindsight, I should have offered to get a taxi. Then maybe all hell wouldn't have broken loose on the way to my parents. Sometimes I surprise myself at the stupid things I do. Sometimes I wish I were someone else … someone who wasn't so bloody over sensitive … someone who was actually like me before I was caned in the face by a disc of plastic.

Now. Don't get all high and mighty on me. You have to remember I wasn't myself at this time. I was the understudy for a psychotic, but without the meds.

I'll tell you what happened, shall I? Please don't judge me too harshly. I didn't set out to be a twat … it just sort of happened. At first it was ok - we chatted about this and that and I felt quite comfortable, well as comfortable as one can get with a huge forehead and a bruise to die for. It wasn't until we were waiting at the traffic lights that I found I had a demon side within me. All she did was look at me with that pitiful face some people can just pull off, and lips that purse in empathy.

'You face looks awful.' That was it. That was all she said to make me become a bunny boiler. The ire within in flashed up and out of my mouth so quickly and vehemently I startled myself.

'What the fuck do you expect?' She reacted by widening her eyes and allowing her mouth to slacken in that tight way that only people who have been insulted can. My hand was on the handle of the door, and before I knew it I was standing on the pavement. 'I don't need your sympathy.' Slam. And I was off, rushing down the pavement of a busy street, trying for the life of me not to turn round. But the sound of horns blaring made me turn, briefly. And in that split moment I saw her sat there at the green lights, her face ashen. Cars continued to blare even when I had walked away, but nothing could drown out the sound of my heart.

***********************************************

Arriving at my parents, I was calmer. When I say calmer, what I actually mean is I felt stupid. The way I had acted was totally unforgivable and totally uncalled for. There was no way anyone deserved to be treated the way I had treated Sophie. All she had done was put herself out for me all day; and all I had done was throw it all back in her face - with gusto. I had to find someway to make it up to her … blame my injuries … blame anything, accept anything to make sure she knew how repentant I was.

By the time I had put my key in the lock I had made my mind up to go and visit her the next day at school and just explain everything to her - even the fancying her part. I knew I didn't have a cat in hell's chance with her now, but that wasn't the point. The point was I had hurt someone who didn't deserve it. And I had to make that right somehow.

When I walked into the front room, they were all there. Mum, Dad, my sister Carrie, Ben and his dad Dave. I just felt like slipping off to my old bedroom, closing the door and blocking out the world so I could think about what I could do next.

Initially, they all made a fuss … and then it got to taking the piss. Totally expected from my family, and unlike my reaction to Sophie, I took it on the chin - better than taking it right in the middle of my forehead like I had done earlier.

I accepted the cuppa, and had a little chat about what had happened at the hospital, completely missing out the 'I'm a twat' part. All I wanted to do was to sneak away and wallow in my own self-pity … just lie on my bed as I had done numerous times before in my teenage years and put the world to rights. Well, put to rights the stupid mistakes I had made that day - put to rights the prattish way I had behaved and wish I had acted like a normal human being. But no. I had to suffer all the stupid comments made by my family about catching the discus with my hands next time, or duck.

'Miss Jefferson is nice isn't she?' Carrie leaned forward and gave me a wink. 'Just your type, if I know you.' They all jeered, well apart from Ben who was just gazing adoringly at my face, his eyes transfixed by the hugeness of my lump. 'I thought you two would get on.' It was the way she said it that got me suspicious. And then the colour flooding her face added to that suspicion.

'Funny you should say that. How did your interview go?' Her face was scarlet by this stage.

'What interview?' It was Dave, Carrie's hubby. Second alarm bell.

Then my mother decided it was time to ask if anyone was hungry. But I wasn't having it … and it also confirmed that she was in on it too - there were too many alarm bells ringing like crazy for me to ignore it.

'I don't believe you two.' And I didn't either. Just because I had been single for a few months didn't give them the right to start fixing me up with any Tom, Dick or Harriett. Then I remembered Ben's first words to Sophie, 'This is my Aunty Katie … She's single.' So, it was the three of them …

'What interview?' Dave's voice was bordering on impatience now, as nobody was paying any attention to him. 'You never told me you were thinking about going back to work. I feel like a mushroom.'

Same here, Dave … Same here. Left in the dark and fed bullshit.

'Look, Katie. We weren't trying to fix you up - just wanted you to meet her, that's all.'

In my head, I had images of my mother lobbing the bloody discus that nearly had my lights out. At this stage, anything was possible. I felt the anger rise again - not surprising really. I mean, if they had kept their dire plans to themselves, I wouldn't have cocked it up big time in the first place. I wouldn't have an aching face … and I wouldn't have an ache deep inside me so bad I felt it was eating me up. For all their matchmaking, they had made things go in the complete opposite direction. Sophie hated me now, probably as much as I intensely disliked myself.

What could I do? Have a go? Tell them to keep their interfering noses out of my business and my life?

'She liked you Aunty Katie.' Ben's voice drifted through my thoughts. I couldn't blow my stack in front of him, but the thought that even he thought I would get on with Sophie kind of smarted. And the fact he thought she had liked me too. Please note the word 'had'. There was no way she would give me the time of day now. The only thing I could do was go and apologise in the morning - or maybe after school. Yeah … after school was better … more potential for things to get better …

'You well enough to come to Mc Donalds, Aunty Katie?' The question nearly went by unnoticed, as I was daydreaming about my sucking up job I was going to perform the next day. It seemed to get a little brighter - the outlook, I mean. Ben seemed to think she had liked me - quite a leap of faith, but you know how imaginations go when left unattended or when they have been fed. Maybe it wasn't all over after all …

'Cos we've broken up from school for the summer.'

That stopped me. Stopped all my mental meanderings about begging forgiveness and pleading for a chance with the dark haired beauty - and being accepted … and floating away on an airbed of expectation. School holidays lasted six weeks. Six weeks. SIX fucking WEEKS. And there was no way I could go and plead my case … I didn't know where she lived … and there was no way I could just turn up at the school in September - for one, I doubt she would even recognise me.

So I did the only thing I thought was reasonable.

'Why on earth would you do that? Get me interested the day before the school broke up.' It was a reasonable question, I thought … and the statement wasn't bad either. 'You tricked me into going to Sport's Day on the pretence that Ben would be left there on his own …' I looked at Ben, who was looking at me wide eyed. 'Not that I didn't want to see you, sweetheart.' And then I ruffled his hair. 'But you did trick me all the same. Then left me alone with her after I had been hit in the face with the discus.'

'We thought it would be a prime opportunity for you to get to know each other better.'

I snorted at this, remembering all the 'getting to know each other better' we had done that afternoon. The nastiness, the bitterness, the sarcasm, the marching off and door slamming. And that was just from me.

That did it. I lowered my head in my hands and sighed the sigh of the defeated. Just the beginning of the list of what a git I had been was enough for me to hang my head in shame. I would have cried, but I didn't have the energy, and I believe the pain of squeezing tears through the little slots of my eyes would have been sheer agony.

'What's the matter Aunty Katie? Didn't you like her?' I lifted my eyes over the back of my hand and met Ben's open and honest green ones peeking over, the question he had asked still hanging in between us.

A slow nod, my eyes not leaving his made the smile forming around his mouth gradually spread wider and wider. 'Good. Cos I like her and I want you to marry her.'

You have to laugh, don't you? With kids it is always black and white - no grey area. Marry her indeed. As if? I'd be lucky if she would grant me a couple of minutes to say my apologies before dismissing me with the wave of her hand. But even though I knew it was an impossibility, I still felt a slight smile creep onto my face.

********************************************************

Four weeks later saw me in the middle of Marks and Spencer's picking my knickers. I should rephrase that. I was in the middle of MS choosing underwear from their fine selection, when I felt someone behind me. And I mean felt …

'Katie? Katie Clarke?'

Unmistakeable.

Why is it you are never standing there with some drop-dead gorgeous and sexy underwear dangling from your fingers when you meet someone you want to impress? Nope. You are usually standing there looking at the sturdy pair … the one you are trying to gauge the strength of by pulling the gusset to one side to check on stitching … the white cotton ones … with no frill. The ones you don't mind your mum seeing hanging from your washing line. And I think you get the message. And I also think you know who was standing there looking all the world more beautiful than she had looked when I saw her last. But then again, the last time I had seen her she had been sitting open mouthed at a set of traffic lights.

I felt the flush gather and rage all over my face as the embarrassment hit me. I had stormed off and left her sitting there. I could not believe I had done that … and I didn't know what was more embarrassing - then or now. Furtively I looked at the knickers, which were sitting innocently in the palm of my hand, and felt another wave of embarrassment wash over me. So I hid them … well tried to put them behind my back, but felt awkward, so I slipped them in my pocket. Why I didn't just drop them onto the pile I'll never know. And all this time she was waiting for me to answer … her smile crooked and expectant.

'Ah … yes … that's me …' and I emitted the most fake shrill laugh I believe I had ever laughed in my life. It even freaked me out a little, and I could tell by the widening of her eyes it had the same effect on her. 'Sorry about that … Just shopping makes me crazy.' The grin she gave me almost sliced her face in two, and she nodded dramatically.

'I know exactly what you mean.' She leaned towards me conspiratorially. 'I've been trying to get a cardigan to wear for work for the last three hours, but I can't see one I like.' Then she leaned back and looked down at my chest … then arms. 'Although I do like your top. Where'd you get it?'

I was too busy blushing at the thought she might have clocked my breasts to answer straight away, and it had been a couple of erms before I actually got the name of the shop out.

'Oooh … I've heard of that. Where is it?'

And here it was. My perfect opportunity to make good on my past misdemeanours - in other words, I could take her there; maybe invite her for lunch.

'Half way up Underbank … before you get to the clock.' Her face still looked puzzled, so I bit the bullet. 'I … I … could take ...' insert swallow here 'you there if you want.' And there it was - out in the open - exposed and ready for a knock back. But it didn't happen. She just grinned. So I reloaded my gun and tried again. 'Maybe we could grab a coffee … or … something.'

'Something sounds wonderful. I'm starved.' And she turned to walk away, stopped and turned back to face me. 'And if I were you, I'd take those white knickers out of your pocket. Don't want to get nicked for nicking knickers do you?'

I doubt I could go any redder. I doubt anyone could go any redder than I was at that precise moment. The heat coming off my face would burn bread, never mind toast it. Scrambling inside my pocket, I retrieved the briefs and threw them on the pile - a pile that wasn't there when I first arrived. It was MS after all. Looking up I saw her waiting for me near the end of the aisle and my heart did a little jig inside my chest.

As I walked towards her I thought of how I would have felt if I had just walked through the doors with the underwear in my pocket. Crap. If I would have actually got further than one foot away from the exit before the store detective hauled my ass over the coals and made me look a total twat, that is. And what would she have thought of me? Would she have thought I constantly went around pilfering stuff from shops? A kinky kleptomaniac, who focused on bizarre and banal under garments?

The last thought made me laugh out loud - well more of a snort really. Sophie's eyebrows furrowed slightly, before she smiled at me and asked 'What's so funny?'

I laughed again. 'Life.' She nodded.

'You can say that again.'

I was going to … or even repeat 'that again', but I thought my humour would not be as funny as I liked to think it was.

'Come on. This way.'

And I began to lead her to the shop on Underbank, but inside I was hoping that our journey did not end there. I still had to apologise for Sport's Day and my actions, but I didn't want to do it walking up the road or rummaging through rails. Lunch. That was the only thing I could do … coffee would not be long enough. She had already said she was starving, so it would be a case of would she like to satiate her hunger with me. Now that's a loaded question - well, if I had worded it as a question that is.

The real question was would she want to be with me after my behaviour four weeks ago? Or would I be sporting another lump between my eyes? I know. That's two. For God sake, give a woman a break.

'Your face looks better.' Her voice drifted through my mental meanderings and shot a spark of panic through me. She wanted to talk about it now … and I wasn't ready. I had only had four weeks to think of a relevant and substantial excuse. It was too soon … shit … I couldn't think of anything to say.

'You must have been in agony.' Like now, you mean? 'I'm sorry I wasn't more sympathetic.'

She was apologising for me being a twat. And I was standing there taking it like an even bigger twat.

'NO!' That was it. Four weeks and that was what I could muster. At least the pigeons eating fag butts stopped their crazy head butting and flew away. Sophie, on the other hand, just looked startled. The volume I had emitted resounded around the shop fronts and bounced back to slap me in the face. 'I'm sorry.'

'It was a little loud, but you don't have to apolog …'

'NO!' I did it again. But this time I lunged out and grabbed her arm, as if that would explain everything. 'I'm sorry … for being obnoxious.' I knew she was going to connect my statement to the here and now, so I carried on. 'For Sport's Day … for the way I behaved. It wasn't me … I … I …'

'I gathered that.' And she laughed, and I flushed. 'Not because of all your sister had told me, but because you had been hit quite hard in the face - no one would be acting normal after a blow like that.' Then it happened. She lifted her hand and gently stroked a finger down my nose. The sensation of that lone digit caressing me made my eyelids flutter and warm waves seep and expand throughout me. Then a buzz … the buzz I had grown used to every time she touched me.

Wait a minute. What my sister had told her? Told her what?

'I'm still surprised you didn't break it.' So soft. Her voice was so bloody soft and enticing. The feeling of the tip of her finger was raging through me and the outside world was beginning to disappear. 'Carrie said you were not yourself for days.'

That did it. Carrie said? How on earth could Carrie tell her anything when school was closed? I didn't understand. The once fluttering eyelids shot open and looked into her blue eyes - the same blue eyes that looked guiltily back into mine. I didn't have to ask. I knew. I knew my sister had been leading me up the garden path and taking me on a tour of Gitsville. She was playing matchmaker … and playing it badly.

Then I had another thought. Carrie had insisted that I buy some new underwear today. Came round first thing and fiddled in my lady drawer for ages. I thought she was getting tendencies - never thought she would be looking for an excuse. And she made me wear the top I had bought from the shop on Underbank …

'You ok?'

Then it occurred to me. If Carrie were playing matchmaker, she would already know something I didn't. And that something was if Sophie was gay or not. Carrie would never waste her time on something that wouldn't eventually fall into place. The next thing that hit me was the fact Sophie had nonchalantly met me in MS … on a Saturday … when the store was packed out. She had been looking for me - she knew I was going to be there. Carrie had made sure of that.

I felt the smile creep up my throat, into my mouth and then spread like butter across my face. Sometimes I loved the fact my sister was an interfering little fu …

'Katie? You ok?'

The smile was in place, and I'm sure I felt it getting wider. 'Never better.'

***********************************************

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 MS 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.

'What?'

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 , 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.

'Yes.'

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

'Yes.'

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

I hope you liked it, and if you did drop me a line at mailto:fingersmith@hotmail.co.uk

And if you are interested in reading my published work, check out http://www.pdpublishing.com/smith.html

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