K is for Karla

"Come on - er - Karla. Let's get you home," he said.

We walked out, not out of the side door of the station but through the front door to where David's car was parked about 50 yards away. And he took my hand too. It was when we were about half way there that I realised. I was walking through town, fully tarted up in a short dress and my very high heels, and holding hands with a man! OK so it was getting a bit dark by then but - I got away with it! We must have passed a dozen people, men and women, young and old, and nobody made any sort of fuss about it.

When we got to the car, David opened the door for me in a very gentlemanly fashion. For a moment I was facing him, his hand tightened on mine. And, just as I had with the Chief Constable, I kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," I said, not knowing whether he would really appreciate the reason for my gratitude.

"No, thank you," replied David.

"Er – I saw my mate Lenny talking to you. Did he say anything....?"

"Lenny? I don't know. I mean, maybe – but I don't remember many of the names."

"He was holding your hand."

"Oh, right, him. I remember now."

"I was – jealous."

"What ....?"

And then he surprised me. He shocked me. There and then, in full view of anyone and everyone who happened to be looking at this couple there in the street, he kissed me. Properly. He leant down and ever-so gently laid his lips on mine. And as we parted after a few seconds he smiled.

I just knew what I had to do next. I was surprisingly calm. I hadn't been expecting anything like that but it seemed such a natural thing to do. I kissed him again. Harder and longer this time. With tongues. Then we got into his car.

I wasn't the only one surprised that weekend.

When Fiona called in to visit David early the next morning and found me sat sipping coffee at his kitchen table, she looked shocked too. Specially since I wasn't fully dressed. I was still wearing my basque and stockings, and high heels of course, covered with a police-issue blue shirt with David's number on the lapels.

"Oh my God!" was her first comment.

Then David came in from the living room.

"David, you dark horse. My brother! I sometimes wondered, but .....!"

She came over and hugged me, then stood back and looked at my attire.

"You look fucking gorgeous, Karla. But you're not wearing that outfit to my wedding!"