It Started with a Unicorn

"I'm so, so sorry, Sydney. I totally misunderstood. I thought..."

I took a deep breath. Might as well go with full disclosure.

"Or a man."

Her eyes were wide now. "Oh, God, honey! I was so off-track, Sydney. I thought..."

"S'ok. I guess. Look, Shannon..."

"I'm so sorry, Sydney."

"No. Don't be. I mean, I was enjoying this. I really was. Well, most of it. I'm having fun."

"Most of it?"

"Well, some I wasn't sure of, but I think  I liked it. Does that make any sense?"

So much for my sophisticated self-image. I felt about 11 years old, utterly clueless. She'd been treating me like an equal and I'd just blown it. I could have been cool about all this, but no, not Sydney. Without warning, I suddenly found myself in tears.

Shannon paused for a moment, thinking, then flowed forward against me again, enfolded me again in those gentle arms. I leaned in; this was clearly about friendship, not sex.

"It's OK, baby," she whispered. "It's OK. There's nothing to cry over."

I looked up at her, sniffed. "I just feel so foolish." I turned my head, leaned against her bare shoulder again. It felt solid, reassuring. Her hands on my back and shoulders were as gentle as if soothing a newborn kitten.

We sat there for what seemed like forever, silent. For some reason, it no longer felt weird being held by a naked woman, not like this. My tears gradually subsided and I found myself wishing I could stay like this forever, never have to move, never have to face the real world again and never, never, never feel like a little child again.

Shannon shifted beside me. To my surprise, she was holding a box of tissues.

"Here. Blow."

I moved away from her, blew my nose, wiped my eyes.

I looked down. "I must look a mess. I feel so foolish, Shannon."

"Don't be. It's my fault; I misjudged everything, Sydney."

I slipped into her arms again, put my arms around her waist, felt comforted by her arms on my shoulders.

"Better now?"

I thought about that. "Mm-hm."

She hugged me gently. "So, what now, Sydney? Do you want to go home? It's OK."

"No. No, I like this. I really do. It's nice."

I giggled. "I don't think I can go anyway. I've had three glasses of wine and they'd throw the book at me if I got caught trying to drive. Um, could I crash on your couch?"

She pushed me back, locked eyes.

"No. No, you may not use the couch! That's not how guests are treated here. You take the bed, Sydney. I'm used to the couch in any case; it's where I sleep when Gracie comes to stay with me."

"I'm not your daughter, Shannon, and I am not going to kick you out of your own bed." I tried to be as forceful as she had been.

"Then I'd better call you an Uber, Sydney."

I thought about that for a second. I had to open in the morning, meaning I had to be at the store by not much after 8:00. I'd have to be out of bed very early to pick my car here.

I looked down, hesitated, summoned up what was left of my courage.

"Shannon, would you mind... I mean, could we..."

She gave me a brief, reassuring hug. "Share? Sure. I'd like that."

"But, Shannon...?"

God,  was I ever feeling insecure! All I needed now were Victorian maidenly vapours or something.

"But nothing else, is that it?" Her reply was gentle. She'd read my question before I could figure out how to express it.

My voice was a whisper. "Please? I'm just not ready."

I was saying no, but deep inside knew that... well, maybe not now, but I wanted to touch her, to run my hands over her silken skin, to...

But not tonight. Tonight had been tough enough.

Her hug was stronger now. "No problems."

There was an auxiliary row of switches by the pool and I found myself watching the windows slide shut. The room was suddenly quiet, breezeless. It felt dark, gently protective. I heard another switch, felt the jets stop, tried to focus on the warmth of the water.

Shannon dimmed the ceiling lights almost to nothing. Was this normal for her or was she trying to respect my suddenly-revealed modesty?

She rose out of the tub, stepped to a pile of bath towels. I watched her move, wondered at her grace. Despite my timidity, I found I could still admire her long legs, the sway of her hips, the dimples on her lower back.

I looked away, hoping she hadn't seen me staring at her.

She handed me a towel, turned away when she felt my hand on it, stepped back to get herself one. I gingerly rose to my feet, felt the water draining over my skin, heard drops falling into the water around my legs. I began to dry myself; Shannon stayed where she was, facing half-away, giving me space, I guess.

I watched her silhouette against the lights of the city outside. She bent to dry her legs and I caught my breath at the heavy sway of her breasts, found myself amazed at the inner conflict between shyness and desire. There was a weight deep in my belly, a tightness in my chest, a feeling of being pushed and pulled at the same time. Was this normal?

I finished drying myself, stepped out of the tub. I put on my robe, let myself be led back into the kitchen, away from the tub.

"I often have a cup of cocoa before I go to bed. Would you like one? Something else? Another glass of champagne?"

"Cocoa sounds wonderful. Thank you."

Shannon turned on the fireplace in front of the sofa and sat at one end, allowing me to choose how close to her I sat.

I was out of the hot tub now and fully clothed, but for some reason, that was making me even more nervous. I fumbled for the right words. "Thank you for your patience, Shannon."

"Honey, thank you  for not freaking out on me. I totally misread..."

I waved my hand, cut her off. "No. I can see why you got confused. I sometimes think people need diagnostic screens or something on their foreheads."

We watched the fire for a while. I let my mind drift, think of nothing but the flames. Eventually, Shannon broke the silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was low, kind.

"What's to talk about?" It was a silly response, I knew. I took a deep breath, let it out.

"I don't know, Shannon. I've never found men attractive, not ever. Just thinking about having sex with a man is just... ick."

There was a long silence.

"How about women?" Her voice was very gentle, very open.

"I... I don't know, Shannon. I think so. I mean, I look at men and the thought of being in bed with them makes me queasy. I look at women and it makes me happy. Excited, maybe? But, outside of that, I just don't know."

OK, yes, I wasn't being entirely honest. I'd been looking at Shannon with more than mere casual interest. Around and around, backwards and forwards, the Sydney Dance. Dammit! Why couldn't I make up my mind, just do what I so obviously wanted to do? Why couldn't I just tell her?

Tell her what? That I wanted her? That I was frightened? That I didn't know what to do next?

Her face seemed very open, very accepting.

"Is it like that for you?" I asked, then blushed suddenly. Who was I to assume anything? There was Gracie, after all. Presumably, she'd... Oh crap!

"I'm sorry!" I stammered. "It's none of my business, really."

She smiled, cut me off.

"Actually, Sydney, my door swings both ways. I like men, too."

"Oh." I thought about that. Was that another creeping tendril of jealousy I was feeling?

I yawned slightly, apologized. "Sorry. It's been a long day."

"It's been a fun day!" she smiled. "I've had fun, Sydney."

"I did too, but..." I couldn't stifle another yawn.

She looked at a wall clock, stretched. I caught a glimpse of pretty nice sideboob when her robe opened. I turned my head again, blushing.

"Bedtime!" she announced.

She led me into the main bathroom, searched through a drawer and found a new toothbrush, handed it to me with a wry grin.

"Um, I might be able to find you a set of pyjamas, Sydney. If you want. But I haven't had a real nightie in years."

"No problem," I replied, my mouth full of toothpaste foam. Actually, maybe it was a problem. I normally slept bare, but tonight? In the same bed with Shannon? I decided it was too late; I'd stick with what I'd said. Panties would at least be symbolic.

A couple of minutes later, I came to her bedroom door. Shannon emerged from the ensuite.

"I normally sleep on the left side," she smiled, "but it's your choice."

"Right side's fine for me."

"Anything you need? Glass of water by your side?"

I shook my head. "No. Thanks."

She turned off the overhead light, stepped around me and, without further ado, took off her housecoat, folded it and placed it on a chair. I watched her, fascinated by her sleek perfection. Getting into bed, she kept her eyes averted and I realized she was trying to make me feel at ease. I slid into bed, too, keeping as far to the right as I could.

"You good, Sydney?"

"Yes."

"Do you need an alarm?"

"I've already set my phone, thanks."

Without further ado, she turned off the side lamp and the room was plunged into the softest, deepest black imaginable.

Her voice was soft in the darkness.

"Sydney? I sometimes leave the blinds open. It's a clear night and the stars should be pretty. Would you mind?"

"I'd like that."

There was a soft sound as she got up and the floor-to-ceiling curtains parted. Shannon was again silhouetted against the stars outside and I felt my breath catch at the sight. The tightness in my tummy got heavier; I felt my nips become hard.

Then she was in bed again and I lay there in the darkness beside her. It occurred to me that the word 'conflicted' was completely inadequate.

And what of Shannon? I was pretty sure that she'd be very happy if I slid a few feet into her arms. Or would she? Maybe not after my timorous meltdown.

"G'night, Sydney." Her voice was very low and I knew I lacked the spine right now to even try. Dammit!

"G'night, Shannon. Thank you."

I sensed her arm moving under the duvet, reached towards her, found it, meshed fingers in the dark. We fell asleep like that; Shannon quite quickly.

It took me a lot longer.

+

I woke the next morning before my phone went off. It was early, still dark. Sometime in the night, Shannon had closed the curtains.

Sometime in the night, I'd moved over to her side of the bed.

Sometime in the night, she'd rolled over to face me, spooned and, still asleep, now lay with one soft hand cupping my right breast.

It felt good, surprisingly good.

I lay quietly, feeling her breath behind me. Did it still count if she didn't know she were doing it?

I hugged her hand to me very gently, treasuring how satisfying her human touch felt. After a few minutes, I reluctantly decided it was time to go.

I slid out from under her arm, pulled the duvet over her shoulders. On impulse, I leaned down, kissed her temple. That felt surprisingly good, too.

I closed the bedroom door behind me, found my clothes and eased out of the apartment.

Sitting in my car, I texted her: thanks so much! had total fun, didn't want to wake u

I thought for a second. I wasn't sure where this was going, but I know I wanted to continue. That much I was sure about.

If, of course, Shannon was still interested. I added another sentence: would like to see you again, added a smiling-but-uncertain emoji and hit Send before I lost my nerve.

+

Mr. Hanan came in around noon and took over at the counter. He wanted me to repack some excess stock to be shipped back to the wholesalers. It was an easy, essentially mindless task. I'd checked my phone a dozen times and found nothing from Shannon. Maybe she was annoyed at me? Maybe she'd written me off as too juvenile to bother with in future?

It was after 1:00 when Mr. Hanan stuck his head into the stockroom. He had an amused expression on his face.

"Parcel for you, Sid."

It wasn't a parcel. Not really.

It was six long-stemmed roses, four red and two white. I opened the card. Unsigned, it bore only the word: Yes!

I looked up at him, my eyes wide.

"Who's it from, Sid?"

"I'm not sure," I lied.

His eyebrows rose in subtle disbelief. He knows,  I thought.

"Well, it looks like you have a fan, one way or the other."

"I guess."

I gave it a few minutes, texted her. they're beautiful! thank you! thank you! thank you! when?

The reply took maybe two minutes to arrive.

Friday at 6?

No doubt in my mind now, I replied, hugs. will grace be there?

This reply took even less time. Still in Mexico

That answered some questions I'd been too chicken to ask myself.

I'd spent a lot of time thinking this through. I knew what I wanted. What I needed was commitment and courage. And belief. Belief in myself and belief in Shannon. There was only one answer I could send.

Yes!

+

I decided to go dressy casual, as sexy as possible without crossing the border into skanky. A very short navy-blue skirt showed off my legs, my best assets. Above it, I tossed caution to the wind and went for an almost sheer blue long-sleeved blouse I'd bought once on impulse.

I turned back and forth in the mirror. The skirt looked good, but my bra just looked silly under the refined seductiveness of the blouse.

I sighed. Who was I trying to kid? 'Seductive' -- really? I knew nothing about seduction.

Staring at the mirror, I thought about the look I'd seen in Shannon's eyes. I was pretty sure I didn't have to tart myself up to get her attention. On the other hand, I was almost as certain that she would appreciate a certain, erm, presentation.

I examined myself in the mirror, stood up straight, squared my shoulders. This was nothing I couldn't do, at least nothing I shouldn't be able to do. I was an adult now, right?

Taking a deep breath and flashing a steely grin at the girl in the mirror, I pulled everything off, tossed the bra, put on a weightless blue thong, the skirt and the blouse. I leaned way forward, allowing my hair to flow over my shoulders and hang down towards the floor. I straightened up suddenly, throwing my hair over my head, reexamined my reflection.

I had to admit that I looked pretty darned good - darned hot, to be honest. Hot, but still classy. I hoped Shannon would see it that way.

The soft fabric shifting over my nipples felt strange. I smiled to myself as they stiffened, poked against the material. I ran my thumbs over them, felt them harden still more. I turned back and forth, looked at them move under the misty blue blouse, felt my confidence grow.

I can do this!  I decided. Even I could be 'seductive'.

I pulled a lightweight white jacket over the blouse. It matched well and I could wear the outfit to the store, so long as I kept the jacket on.

One my way to Shannon's after work, I stopped at a liquor mart reputed to be less fussy about IDs and ages. They were and even had the same brand of champagne she had served on sale. Ideal.

+

Shannon had a bright smile on her face when she opened the door. It broadened considerably when she saw my outfit. Her approval was clear and I felt warm inside.

I handed her the bottle. "I think this is yours."

"How did you manage to get this? No, never mind. Don't tell me." She was wearing a blue-grey skirt and a long-sleeved white blouse, quite casual but really pretty. I was suddenly disappointed to be able to see the outline of her bra through the blouse.

"Up for Chinese?" she asked. Her eyes ran over me and I quivered a little.

"Works for me. But I get to pay."

"Sydney..."

"Give me a break, Shannon. Yes, you're doing well, 'way better than me, but leave me some pride, OK?"

She stared at me a moment, gave a wry smile, nodded silently.

The same stack of DVDs was where I'd last seen them. I grinned inside when I noticed Fifty Shades of Grey wasn't among them, though. We settled on Titanic and were well into it when the door buzzer sounded.

We took a break to serve ourselves, then a sniffle break at the iconic scene of Rose and Jack on the bow railing. I blew my nose, turned to her.

"Thank you for this, Shannon. I really appreciate it."

"No worries. I'm enjoying myself, hon. Thanks for the bubbly."

"Well, you've been very patient with me. It's the least I could do."

She said nothing to that, restarted the film. Soon enough, the famous nude scene, Rose asking Jack to draw her nude.

It was time, I thought. I took a deep breath, shrugged out of the jacket, laid it aside. Shannon's eyes were on the exposed Rose; she paid me no attention.

Not immediately.

About three minutes later, she dropped her wine glass.

The next couple of minutes were a bit chaotic. Shannon's attention was divided between my boobs and the pressing need to sponge wine out of her carpet. I was on my knees, trying to help. I found the unfamiliar feeling of unsupported, swaying breasts amusing. Both of us wound up laughing our heads off.

Eventually, kneeling across from me on opposite sides of the cleaned-up spill, Shannon tossed her towel aside and, smiling broadly, openly ogled the girls.

"I thought I'd invited a shy friend over," she smirked. "Who are you and what have you done with Sydney?"

I shrugged, gave her a small smile. "You caught me off guard last time, Shannon. I've had time to think about me and you and what I really want."

I couldn't read her expression. I lowered my eyes, caught myself, raised them again to face her.

"Shannon, I think you were making a very polite pass at me last time I was here." I was proud that I managed to get that out without squeaking.

There was a long silence. As I watched, a slight flush rose on her face.

"Yes." A whisper.

"Well, I'm sorry that I dodged."

Her eyes were soft now, looking at my face, not my boobs.

"I am," I insisted. "Now."

She stared at me.

"I was from the moment I got home, Shannon."

I plucked at the collar of my blouse.

"Tonight, I didn't want either of us to misunderstand."

"Sydney..."

"Damn it, Shannon! I'm 20 years old. I'm not a child."

"No." Her eyes dropped to my chest again and she grinned. "No, you certainly aren't."

I stood up, shaking just a little.

"So? Don't let me lose my nerve, Shannon."

I closed my eyes for a second, felt her step towards me, allowed myself to flow into her arms. Her body was warm, strong, her shoulder at precisely the right height for my head to rest on. I felt her breathing, felt her breasts shift against mine. One hand pulled my head in and held me firm against her while the other began to trace its way down my back from shoulder to...

To my bum. It wasn't the first time she'd done that, but, still, it was in every sense very much the first time. There wasn't an off-ramp this time, if you get my drift. This was natural, pleasant, welcomed, not something catching me by surprise.

I could smell her shampoo and some sort of cream, overlaying the scent of healthy woman. It was what I'd always wanted, without knowing. I inhaled deeper, let my hands run down her waist to her hips.

She pulled back a little, her eyes wide as her head came down to mine and I drifted into my first kiss, my first serious, intentional, I'm-happy-about-where-this-is-going  kiss.

The tip of her tongue traced lightly along my lips, I opened my lips, my tongue met hers, danced a second. I could feel my heart pounding as she explored between my lips and teeth, then deeper, over the roof of my mouth, teasing, playing. I wasn't entirely sure how to respond, but I tried to follow her lead.

I felt my tummy grow hard, my legs grow weak.

"Shannon?" I whispered, pulling back just a little.

Her eyes showed the greatest softness I had ever seen. Her fingertip traced lightly along my jawline.