My Friend/His Sister Ch. 01

"Are you s...sure?" he said.'

"Absolutely," I said, "you're driving me home."

"Then I'll pay next time," he dabbed at his mouth, placing the napkin by the side of his now empty plate, "Whe...when are you free?" he said, a slight hint of nerves coming back in.

"It's more about you Kev," I said, "I'm an eight-to-five weekdays, with some evening stuff going on; you're the one with shift pattern." The waiter left the bill on the table, and I snatched it up, pointing to the card reading machine he was holding. He brought it and I used my 'Samsung Pay' App, reading on the paper strip that a 15% 'Blue light discount' had been subtracted, and I showed it to Kev, and he winked at me, Ooooooh yeah!

"I'm free tomorrow night," he said, then looked at his watch, "well, tonight actually!"

"That would be great," I said, now actually feeling the warmth in my cheeks.

"Where would you like to go?"

Two W's, an L, a T and a G. No stutter there, bonus; perhaps my evident nerves were letting him know his were OK.

"I don't know; this curry has been delicious, but happy to catch a movie then perhaps a burger after?"

He dug out his phone and found what was being shown at the multi-plex, across the concourse from the Frankie and Benny's I'd been to earlier.

I selected the latest 'Fast and Furious'; while it was the most outrageous and far-fetched Hollywood nonsense, I still loved the fast-car-franchise and would normally go with Steve and Holly.

A double date?

Nah, not yet.

The bill paid, we stood and were thanked out of the restaurant by the very attentive waiters, stepping across to his car in their small customer car park. Walking to his car it was almost silent, faint sounds of singing creeping across the sleeping town centre.

Safely in his car, I explained where I lived, and it was a short drive there, and he pulled across my shared driveway, complementing me on the nice part of town I shared a house in.

"Come and see the bike," I said, knowing I was talking to a fellow two-wheel enthusiast. I hoped that I didn't sound too clingy with him, but I did kind of want to get him out of the car.

He did, and seemed most impressed by it, running a hand across the black fender then the green edged tank, stopping just before it reached the saddle, where my rather impressive arse would rest.

"Nice," he said, "rather jealous."

"How's this," I said, "you drove this evening; you still have a crash helmet?"

"Yeah."

"OK, how about I pick YOU up tomorrow? It's only the cinema, won't be a black-tie event so we can both go with jeans."

"A fine idea," he said, with no kind of stutter, "BUT, I do reserve the right to take the car if it's pissing down or minus six degrees."

I stepped in just a bit closer to him.

"It's May," I said, "the chances of us freezing to death are minimal."

"Yeah," he moved so close that I could feel his body heat, "But it WAS pissing down this morning when I came home from work."

"OK, if it's raining, we'll go in your car." I smiled at him again, "Thanks again for a lovely evening Kev."

"Oh no," he said, "I was just asked to drive you home, the curry was totally down to you."

"Well, thank you for driving me to the curry house, and spending the time with me."

I leaned forward and kissed him, just once. He kissed me back, and it was rather nice. So nice that I slipped my arms around his neck, and we carried on.

Very soon his arms were around me and pulling me tight to him, and we smooched experimentally for a while, our tongues meshing and mashing together in the new shared pleasure.

I hadn't seriously swapped spit with someone since a drunken Christmas party eighteen months before, and it was OK but this time, this was special. I held him gently but firmly delighting in his reciprocation.

We broke for breath,

"Tell me one thing Kev," I whispered, leaning back a tiny bit, "when I came back from the ladies, Steve looked like he was giving you a hard time," I pecked another kiss on his soft lips, "If my big brother was warning you off me, I will have to have him killed."

"Totally the o...opposite," said Kev, hugging me tighter his hands moving across my back, "what he was actually doing was getting me to calm down, control and slow my breathing," (the thing I'd noticed him doing during our meal) "and talking me through the exercises he taught me a few years back to control my stammer." He closed his eyes, "He did ask me to drive you home, then pointed out that you seemed quite taken with me. He said I should ask you out to dinner.

You looked SOOOOO gorgeous Laura, shit, it was all I could to look at you after he said that, so that was just him calming my speech; haven't really had that much of a problem with it since I moved away to University."

I was so touched by that, by how my lovely big brother had tried to help this lovely boy to ask me out,

"Kev, won't you come inside for a while?" I did want to hear more of his story, having changed the subject from his youth while we were eating and getting to know each other."

"I'd really love to Laura, but I have to go home and let my cat out, or he'll be ripping things up and trashing my flat."

"OK," I said, my head slightly to one side, "I officially forgive my big brother, and how about we meet here at seven o'clock this evening and decide if we're going to the retail park on the bike or in your car."

"That would be perfect lovely Laura," he said, kissing me again.

That carried on for a few moments until he slowly released me, keeping hold of my hand until he could just kiss my fingers, and bade me goodnight.

I blew him a kiss as he started his car, watching and waving until he was out of sight.

What an evening.

I let myself in, pouring myself a glass of water, and tiptoeing to my bedroom, still buzzing with the night, mentally running through Sue's dinner, the four of us in the bar, seeing Claire and managing to leave her there, the ambulance with Shauna stood by Sue's people carrier, blue light driving to the hospital, then tiny, lovely Daisy being born.

It was almost like at the stroke of midnight, a really different day had begun, figuratively as well as technically.

My search for a taxi and seeing Steve's car, Steve, the coffee, meeting Kev, the drive, the curry, even though I'd eaten a mere four hours before, then the drive home and kissing at my front door.

I stripped down to my panties, and climbed under my duvet, waking at eleven that morning to a mug of tea from my housemate Jo, who'd not heard me return, and was still convinced I'd stayed over with a gallant from the night before.

I confessed that I had met a lovely man the night before, but only the threat of his cat trashing his flat had stopped him coming in and staying over, at least that was how I read it.

I pointed out that if she was around at seven that night, a peak out of the window and she could see for herself.

I told Jo about my idea that we go on my motorbike, and she folded her arms and shook her head.

"No fucking way," she spluttered, "You want to go out on a FIRST DATE with a really HOT GUY, and on a SATURDAY NIGHT in JEANS?" I tried to explain the motorbike link, but she shut me down with, "if you're wearing a crash helmet, you can arrange your own hair and make-up."

I admitted defeat and was waiting at the door for him at seven o'clock, in a short, light and wispy 'River Island' summer dress for the warmth of the evening, that he seemed very impressed with. I admitted that my housemate Jo, (pointing up to the window where I could just see her) had dared me to put on jeans, adding some cuteness I begged that he drive again, promising that I'd dig the bike out next time. He didn't seem worried in the slightest and took my hand.

Kev had made a similar effort, and his black 501's made his long legs and his bottom look fine, and the blue cotton shirt was open to show a hint of chest hair.

Much as his designer stubble had looked great the night before, he'd had a shave and looked even better.

The movie was everything that 'Fast and Furious' always promises and far-fetched-fun, and hand in hand, we walked across to the restaurant.

At our table overlooking the waterway that the retail and business park had been built around, I asked him more about my brother's assistance with his stammer.

Being a maxillofacial specialist, Steve had carried out surgery to reconnect part of a patient's tongue and he'd researched some exercises and worked closely with a speech therapist as part the recovery.

A year later, he'd met Kev in the local A&E and shook hands, and they'd gone out for a few beers, to remember their school and college days, and Steve mentioned how much improved the stammer was since those times.

He told me that he'd just started to talk to Steve that he was 'getting over it', when at that moment Steve introduced his gorgeous maxillofacial specialist girlfriend Holly, and started to chat nicely to Kev, introducing a gorgeous lady dentist friend she'd brought with her especially.

The stutter was back. Holly and her friend went for drinks at the bar, and Kev pointed out that it only reared its head when he was nervous around beautiful women.

I smiled at him as he said that, the most perfect response.

Never at work, never when he was carrying out his life-saving procedures, never handing over to doctors or nurses, just when he met pretty girls he didn't know and felt attracted to, and in social situations. He even mentioned times when a couple of girl ambulance techies had heard through the grapevine that he stammered when in that kind of contact, but because he knew they were just being mean, and he was quite senior to them, it never affected his speech.

I asked him when it started.

"Had it since I was a kid, after my Mum died and Dad married Linda." He sat up straighter, "She was OK, never violent towards me, but did tend to be a bit snappy at me and overly critical, generally over nothing. Claire was born and of course she was perfect, making them both quicker to point out my faults.

My stammer came along in primary school, both Dad and Linda thought nagging, then borderline threats and holding back of nice things, treats, or days out, would stop my tongue tripping.

Claire was like a fucking cuckoo in the nest, getting worse as she grew up, and stirred the shit against me, and was just so fucking hateful. The whole 'K...K...Kevan' thing," he growled. "To be honest I just gave up talking when the bitch was around.

Eventually, even my Dad noticed what a cow she was to me, and took her to task about it. Linda stepped in to defend Claire against me of course, and Claire didn't help, realising that tiny bit of her power and influence could soon disappear if Dad cottoned on.

About six or seven years later, Dad and Linda divorced, and Claire would move from house to house, as her whim took her, and as I got older, I would shudder when I saw her coat in the hallway and her bags on the stair at Dad's place. For years, I would go and stay with my maternal grandparents, just to be out of her way.

Dad would insist I stay and fight my corner, and not say anything other than a rather tired, 'Claire, don't be so mean to your brother'.

She would respond with, 'he's not MY brother', and go into one of her 'K...K...Kevan' rants. Bitch."

I reached out and laid a hand on his,

"I remember that shit," I said, "I couldn't believe how horrible she was to you. But then," I picked up my Coke, "she was pretty mean to everyone."

"Including you," he said with a grin.

I had told him about her insult veiled as a compliment, and that I'd given her the same back about her perfume.

"I have a feeling that she grumbled about me to her other friends, in the same way she grumbled to me about them."

"Yep," he said with a sideways grin.

"Go on then," I giggled to him, with a girly smile.

"Laura?" he laughed back at me defensively.

"Come on; no don't tell me," I paused, with a finger to my lip, "I wasn't clever enough to be a schoolteacher, I would never get through university, she could be 100 times the schoolteacher I ever was?"

The '100 times' was one of her favourites, a friend told me after I'd been awarded my school colours for football, the first girl ever to get it in the long history of our pre-war school, she told everyone she was '100 times the footballer I was', and I'd heard her tell people she was '100 times better at...' this, that or the other, than whoever was being complimented.

"Where you IN the room, Laura?"

"Lucky guess," I said, wrinkling my nose at him.

"Along those lines," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "if she ever found out that a school had employed YOU, she'd go straight to her local MP and denounce you."

In my head I could see her dramatic folded arms, pouted lips and closing shake of her hair.

"Figured as much," I said, "I'll wait and see what kind of response I get at school from her."

"The bitch is fucking insane;" he continued, "I haven't seen her in at least two years and if I'm honest, that seems far too short a time."

"Does she visit your Dad?"

"Yes, but after the divorce was settled, Dad gave it a few years to build up his funds then took early retirement and has a small two bed flat he lives in. She can stay there, but it's in rather a nice block of retirement places down in the New Forest, and because she doesn't drive, it's a train and a bus ride, then a short walk.

Claire would phone Dad and tell him to collect her from the station, and he told her it was a short walk from the bus stop and he'd 'put the kettle on. She fumed at him and said she wouldn't bother seeing as he didn't care about her, arguing that the place 'smells of pensioners piss anyway, and made her feel like she's going to vomit, and she would rather sleep in the gutter'. Dad told her if she was going to sleep in the gutter, to remember to wrap up warm."

I laughed.

"WHAT?" I screeched, "And she let him get away with that?"

"She went straight back to her Mum's place and the new husband she hated and told them that Dad was being mean to her."

Mr Goodall had been something in the electrical engineering world and had the design patents on quite a few interesting bits and pieces he'd designed and had constructed, selling them out of his garage Jobs/Wozniak-like, bringing in his university friend and future wife Katie as the marketing and accounts specialist.

My family was comfortably off, but the Goodalls were another story, living in a rebuilt 17th century mill house on the outskirts of town, even after Katie's tragic death. The town all talked quietly about what it could have been that had attracted Linda to the multi-millionaire widowed inventor, but his slowing down and semi-retirement had been the end of their relationship, with Linda taking half of his remaining fortune. For this reason Claire had never known anything but plenty, and always talked as if it was because she was so special.

"And DOES new dad hate her?"

"I can see why he WOULD," he said with narrowed eyes, but enough of a smile, "I can't see that a step-dad would put up with her whiny shit, despite what Linda might say."

I giggled again.

"Oh, admit it Kev, you miss her!"

He laughed at my suggestion and my cute look, I'd even pushed my chest forward so any piss-taking comments of mine could be ignored as he eyeballed my cleavage and décolletage.

He smiled again, and shook his head,

"Dad told me that Linda rang him later and demanded to know what he'd said to her. Dad told her that she wouldn't ride the cheap and regular buses, then walk the three minutes through the sunny forest to get to him, that was all. He confirmed that he'd told her the spare room was always available for the next time she fell out with her Mum, and repeated Claire's response of the smell the complex allegedly had and her sleeping in the gutter.

Linda said a simple 'Oh, OK', knowing Claire to be totally capable of such an outburst." He dabbed those lovely soft lips of his on his napkin, "Mostly she doesn't bother him because he hasn't got the kind of money he had before. His pension fund is more than adequate to keep him in comfort, with only a small monthly service charge to pay, and allows for a round or two of golf a week, with lunch at the 19th, a few holidays and one or two nights a week in the bar at the lodge. BUT..." he raised his eyebrows, "No way is he going to make big holes in his lump sum or his investments, just because she wants a car she can't drive, or whines that 'absolutely EVERYONE is going to Ko Samui this year'."

"She hasn't changed a bloody inch has she," I said.

"Nope; Dad went to Linda's Mum's funeral five or six months back as they had been friends, and Claire was bitching and loudly grumbling to Linda's entire family that her rich Dad wouldn't pay for ANYTHING. Her family knew how much Linda had taken him for, that he was perfectly entitled to enjoy his money in comfort, her Uncle Matt pointed out that at her age, he'd been working for eight years, was married with two kids, had a house and a mortgage, and had paid for his own cars and holidays."

"Bet she didn't take to that!"

"No, she wandered off to the bar and whined to a family friend about her uncle, and 'who the fuck was HE to question HER FUCKING CHOICES! HIM!" Kev took another sip of his drink, "Her cousin, his daughter, was stood behind her, ooooh..." he struggled for a name, clicking his fingers.

"Not... Cousin Kerry?"

"That's her."

Cousin Kerry had been a real legend, and one of the nicest girls I knew growing up, and we'd met and hung out at Claire's house quite a few times, and she was even nice to Kev.

Claire didn't like that one bit, but she was still a bit of an icon, and regulalry shown off and quoted on social media.

"They were, like, best mates?" I said in surprise, "Kerry this, Kerry that; best dressed girl in town, drives a Mini Cooper, the font of knowledge and wisdom; after her of course."

"That she may once have been, but she'd heard Claire slag off her dad and gave her the mother and father of a slap. Put her on her arse in fact."

I smiled and bit my bottom lip and turned my face away from his. I came back, still smiling but in control.

"Well, I know she's your half-sister and all, but... it was... well..."

"Well-deserved?"

"And a long time coming," I said. Then something stuck me, "If she's no longer on speaking terms with Kerry then..."

"That's right," he said, "she probably has no friends at all..."

"Do you think that's why she developed such an interest in me all of a sudden?"

"Without question," he said, "She probably Facebook-stalked you here," he pointed across the concourse to Frankie and Benny's, "thinking she might get back in with you, and your gang of mates."

I thought back to that look she gave me when Soph said we were heading for the ladies,

"But we dumped her."

Kev must have noticed the faint edges of some pangs of guilt.

"Don't blame yourself," he said, "if she wasn't such an opinionated cow, she'd have some lots of friends."

"You're right of course," I finished my Coke and tried to decide on whether I was going to have a pudding. The night before and early that morning, I'd eaten rather more than I ordinarily would have, so figured for the good of my wardrobe, I'd demur.

"How about I order a dish of ice cream with two spoons," he said, reading my thoughts.

I folded my arms and leaned forward so my cleavage would be even more obvious to him again,

"So, as a medical professional, you can confirm there won't be any calories involved?"

"None whatsoever Laura, they'll be in my portion!" He leaned across the table and took my hands in his, "It's like pinching someone else's chips, they don't count against your diet, everyone knows that?!"