Finding Rhiannon Pt. 04

But it was the low-cut white crop top -- and what was inside it -- that stood out, in every sense of the term. Her beautiful breasts weren't too big. They didn't spill out or bulge from the flimsy cotton. They were simply framed perfectly.

The whole outfit said "I'm a sexy young woman, and I don't care who knows it." It projected a confidence that I could only dream of feeling. It was also a serious distraction. It took me several seconds to realise (a) that I had been openly staring at her body, and (b) I didn't have the faintest idea what she had just said to me.

I looked up in consternation, then relief as I realised she was amused rather than offended. "I said, my name's Emily!" she repeated, tucking her long, dark hair behind one ear. Her almond eyes twinkled at my evident embarrassment, which was only spared when Zoe asked us to sit down and offered to go and buy some drinks.

"Thanks, hon," said Lucy. "I'll have a white wine -- a nice sauvignon blanc if you can find one." Zoe nodded and looked at me.

I was about to ask for a beer, but then stopped. Is that really what Rhiannon would drink? "Um, same thanks," I said, trying to keep my voice high and light as Lucy had advised. It came out more as a squeak and I had to repeat myself to be understood.

Feeling like an explanation was in order I turned to Emily, who was sitting next to me, and said "Sorry, bit of a sore throat right now."

She nodded sympathetically. "Sorry to hear that," she said, resting her hand lightly on my arm. The throb from inside my knickers was so pronounced I was surprised the material didn't tear. "So how do you come to know Lucy," she asked.

Fighting hard to look either into her eyes or off into space, rather than looking down at her cleavage, I did my best to croak an answer. "We were shopping at the same store and, er, just got chatting. You?"

Emily drained her glass. "Zoe introduced us," she said, "I'm doing the same degree as her. Studying HR, if you must know." She rolled her eyes theatrically, as if this were an awful thing to confess.

"Nothing wrong with HR," I said, "that's what I do." Her face lit up. "Really? Where do you work? You must tell me about it!"

I cursed myself for an idiot. Why couldn't I have made something up? But I'd already resolved to try and keep any story as close to the truth as possible, so I didn't get caught out.

I told her the name of the law firm where I worked, as it seemed long odds she would know anyone there -- and indeed she didn't. I was spared the need for any further explanations by Zoe's return with the promised drinks.

"Here you go," she said, putting the tray down and handing the glasses round. As Lucy and I took ours, Zoe told us that it was the product of a new winery that was apparently winning all kinds of awards.

"Yeah yeah," said Lucy, "heard that before!" But after taking a sip she widened her eyes in appreciation. "Oh wow," she said, "that really is something. What do you think Rhiannon?"

I usually preferred to drink red, but as I dipped my nose into the glass, my nasal passages were caressed by a delicious mix of aromas. I wasn't particularly good at identifying the different components of a wine's bouquet, but there was a strong suggestion of citrus -- maybe grapefruit?

I took a good sip and let the cool liquid roll around my mouth before swallowing it. It was truly delicious, pretty much the best white I'd ever tasted. "That is beautiful," I said. "Thanks Zoe!"

As I spoke there was a faint gurgling sound around me. As with the other strange sounds I had been hearing since first being trapped in the lingerie store, I looked around to trace its source, but found myself looking into Emily's puzzled expression.

"Did your throat suddenly get better?" she asked. "Sorry, what-" I began to say, then stopped. The message my ears had been sending finally got the attention of my brain.

The last two things I'd said had not been in my normal voice. It was as if someone had put a recording of me through a graphic equaliser and a pitch shifter -- and then changed all the settings. The bottom end had all but disappeared, and the mix of tones was sweeter, less harsh. It was the voice of a young woman.

I stared at Emily, then down at the glass in front of me. I rose to my feet. As if from a distance, I heard a woman say "Um, yes, but my head's feeling a bit funny. Just going to get some fresh air..."

Surely that couldn't have been me? But all the same, I was moving away from the booth and towards the exit, ignoring Lucy's request to stop and tell her what was wrong.

The collision would have sent me crashing to the floor, had not strong hands caught and steadied me. "Careful," said the person I'd cannoned into in my rush to get outside.

I regained my balance on the treacherous heels and looked up to see an attractive young man in a suit eyeing me with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked. I noticed his eyes flick up and down to take in my outfit and stockinged legs. He smiled. "If you're not, I could buy you a drink. Or even if you are..."

Fighting to regain my composure, I stood there, transfixed by shock. But as the gurgling noise sounded again it was not his words that held me, nor the hands that still grasped my arm and shoulder. I was staring at the person behind him.

It was Caroline -- my wife.

[To be continued]