Roses for Erin

He shouted something back that I didn't bother to try to decipher, and gave me a cheerful wave before he turned away.

A nice, clean ejection.

Just what I needed and had hoped for.

Thank the stars for Hannah and her expedience.

I made my way to the club exit and fought my way out into the cool, quiet night air.

I took a breath, sighed it out, and dialled her number.

She answered almost immediately.

"Hello," she said, in a breathy giggle. "Are you out safely or do you need the cavalry?"

"That was amazingly dramatic," I laughed as I ducked into the shelter of a bus stop. "And very much appreciated. Thank you, Hannah. You gave me a graceful exit from at least another hour of tedium."

"Did it work?"

"Oh, absolutely, he didn't seem too bothered. I said my cousin had hurt herself. I'm sure he'll find someone drunker and less picky to go home with. There were already one or two likely girls eyeing him as I left. And good luck to him."

"Alright. So are you going to come over, then? I still need rescuing, after all," she added.

"Um..."

"I'm bored and you're clearly free," she wheedled. "And I'm not actually out of wine, and I suspect after that disaster you could use a glass.. So... please? Won't you come? I would be eternally grateful because I'm actually at a loose end tonight and I could really do with your company."

I pondered for a moment.

"Do you know what," I said. "A glass of wine with you would actually be quite nice right about now. I'm feeling rather... cheated."

"Be warned, I may ask you to give me a costume critique. And I may very well force you to drink more than just one glass of wine with me."

"I... I think I'll be okay to do those things for you. One good turn deserves another, after all."

"Fantastic. Where are you?"

"Shoreditch at the mo."

"Okay, I'm in Kennington. I'll send you my address. See you in about... thirty minutes, I suppose? The Northern Line should be running well at this time of night. Oh. Hah. On that note I suppose I'd better go and put some pants on."

"Yes. Please do," I laughed.

"See you in a bit, Erin."

"See you soon... Hannah," I answered.

She hung up, and I smiled, turned my nose towards the west and started walking towards Old Street station.

.:.

"Hello! Come in. Sorry for the mess, I'm in a perpetual state of trying to sort it out."

"Thanks again for saving me from my bad decisions..."

"We girls need to look out for one another," she grinned. "Life's too short to waste time in shitty clubs. Gosh, Erin, I've just got to tell you that you look lovely in that shade of red - I can't believe it was such a disaster when you obviously put in so much effort. What a waste. So... want to give me the gory details?"

I shrugged. "I'm not desperate enough to go home with the first house elf I meet."

She laughed loudly. "Oh no! Alas, poor old Dobby! Was it really that bad?"

"I am being intensely unfair, I suppose. He was good looking and I'm sure he's sweet, but... his focus was on booze, not on me. And the venue was very much more something I'd go to late rather than early. If I wanted to dance, for example. Then again, the music was soulless crap."

"Ooh, you dance?"

"Well, I like it, but I'm not sure I'm any good," I said.

"I love dancing but, again, there's never time," she sighed. "That's part of why I'm going all in on this costume party; there will be a dance floor of sorts later in the evening. I can bust out my disco moves," she added, with a wry little grin.

"A Disco Goth Queen of the Fairies? This I've simply got to see."

"If I had a spare ticket I'd drag you along. Alas, I don't. So sad. Anyway. Wine?"

"Oh fuck me, yes please."

"Is Rosé okay?"

"Rosie's a whore, but I'm a terribly cheap date. So long as there's alcohol in it I'm grand. Pour me some. Please?"

"Your wish is my command," she said with a playful little curtsey.

She poured me a glass and handed it to me. Then she topped up her own and lifted it. "Well, cheers Erin. Thanks for coming over. It's nice to see you again. Especially so soon."

"Yeah, it's nice to see you too. Thanks again for the rescue."

"You're welcome," she said. "Though you may regret it later."

"Hardly," I said. "It would have to be pretty gruesome and sticky end to top my evening so far. Not to mention the... er... frustration. I was hoping for some reward for my efforts. No matter how small."

She grimaced.

"So how long's it been for you, then?"

"A while," I muttered. "And even that was an all-too-brief one night stand. It's been well over two years since I had anything... regular."

"London can be tough," she said. "Do you have any hobbies? They're a good way to meet similar people, or so I hear."

"Just... reading really. I'm not very outdoorsy but... I do like going to the parks in the evenings and weekends..."

"And you like dancing," she said.

"And I like dancing," I agreed. "When I can. "

"Ever done proper dancing? Ballroom or Latin?"

"A little bit, long ago," I said. "They're not really my thing, and besides, then you need a reliable partner, don't you? That's... not exactly my forte."

"You're preaching to the choir," she said. She sipped her wine. "I'm woeful at holding onto anyone, so... I guess that makes us kindred spirits of a sort."

"How did you get into costume stuff?"

"Oh. I always enjoyed dress-up," she said. "I used to love being on the stage at school, especially when I got to dress in things that weren't traditionally appropriate for girls. I loved being a pirate, for example."

I grinned. "You'd make a pretty good pirate queen, truth be told. A nice low cut top, a sash around your waist, a sword and and some pistols..."

"Yarr," she agreed. "Anyway... it's just something I love. I love... putting on a costume. Especially with a mask. It's strangely... liberating. I can... pretend to be something I'm not."

"Mm. I've never tried."

"Really?"

"No. I'm really boring."

"You're not at all boring. Just... vanilla," she said. "There's nothing wrong with vanilla. It's a delicious flavour, one of my favourites actually. And, anyway, everything has its place."

I glanced aside, and spent a moment admiring the bright, orderly colours of her tiny but modern flat. I noticed a mask hanging on the wall, and that reminded me.

"Have you chosen your outfit, then?"

"Oh. Yes, I've got something lined up."

"Can I... see?"

"Mm. Okay, I suppose so. I've got it all hanging up in my room. You can come peek but you're just going to have to promise to ignore the... chaos."

"Oh come on. My place is far worse," I said. "Yours at least has a theme. Mine's just..."

And I shrugged; words weren't really sufficient.

She took my hand. "This way," she said softly, as she pulled me along the abbreviated passageway.

"You call this messy?" I asked, amused. Her bed was made and there were no items of laundry anywhere to be seen. Just books and magazines scattered here and there...

"It is for me. So. A moment, then, as I get everything..."

She opened her cupboard, reached inside, and pulled out a long swathe of black fabric. She shook it out and I realised it was an intricate construction of lace, lined with a very short inner skirt.

"Wow," I breathed.

She spread it gently on the bed and set her corset down beside it. I instantly saw the reason she'd chosen the second - the floral motif was nearly identical to the black lace flowers that crawled up and down the folds of the skirt.

She reached into her cupboard and retrieved a very short black lace... jacket... of some sort.

"My Bolero," she said as she laid it out over the corset.

"I'm sensing a theme here."

"Black lace? Oh, yes. I like it. It's like... a body mask. I love how it both reveals and obscures. It's very... exciting for me. To obscure bits.... speaking of which..."

She walked over to a small dresser and opened the top drawer.

She carefully lifted a delicate black half-mask off a bed of fabric. She turned to me and raised it to her face.

"I found this in Camden. I paid far too much for it. The shopkeeper claimed it was Venetian. It's almost certainly not, but I love it regardless."

"... Wow," I whispered.

I stared at the vaguely feline form that it lent her cheeks and brow, the delicate tracery-work of gold inlay beneath the eye holes, the ornate and ostentatious madness of the iridescent black feathers around the border...

Then I blinked as she broke the spell by setting it down again.

"So now I'm going to put everything on for you," she said. She reached down and slid her pink tracksuit pants unceremoniously down her lovely long legs.

"Oh!" I squeaked.

I flushed hot - the sheer, semi-transparent black lace briefs she had on underneath clung like a second skin to the most private and intimate curves of her body in a disturbingly... evocative... manner, leaving absolutely nothing about her scrupulously-shaven crotch to the imagination.

She stepped her legs daintily through the narrow waist of the long lace dress and eased up the hidden zip at the back.

I watched her, trapped in some strange frantic mix of embarrassment and voyeuristic curiosity.

She shook out the fabric - the hem fell to an abbreviated mid-thigh in front before plunging in a gorgeous ruffled ellipse down to brush the floor behind her.

You'll need heels or boots for that, I thought to myself, admiring the effect.

And as I did she pulled her shirt off and discarded it and the faded sports bra underneath it. She glanced briefly at me as I tried (very hard) not to react to her casual relationship with nudity. She reached for the corset and positioned it around herself. She adjusted her sublime breasts into position and fiddled with the fabric. The first clasp slid into place and she smiled. "This one is far easier than others I've worn," she said as she latched the other four mechanisms. "It doesn't nip or pinch. These clasps are nice and smooth. I'm not going to bother with the lacing right now."

She picked up and pulled on the short lace jacket and fastened the single Jet button at her throat.

Patterned roses now crawled up her arms and along her back and shoulders. They complemented the corset and dress perfectly.

I tried not to stare at the erotic little diamond of exposed skin that advertised the beautiful swell of her breasts.

"And now for the accessories," she said.

She turned away from me and shuffled over to her door to rummage behind it, emerging with a set of black gauze butterfly wings.

"I need to adapt these," she explained as she turned them over. "I don't want the straps to show so I might sew on some clips or something. But...here goes."

She slipped her arms through the straps and settled the wings onto her back. She reached behind herself, shook her hair out, and stepped delicately over to her dresser once more, wings bobbing gently with each step she took. She raised the mask to her face and fastened it carefully in place.

And then...

Then, she slowly turned back to me.

"How do I... look?" she said, soft and almost... unsure.

I couldn't answer.

Not at first, anyway.

I was absolutely and utterly spellbound.

The Burtonesque curlicue points of her upper wings spanned ever-so-slightly less than her lace-misted shoulders and stood only just proud of the crown of her head. The intense false eyes on her wings glared out past the shadowed tracery of her hair. Her mask made her haughty and distant and utterly perilous - a dark, immortal queen considering mortal little me from some incalculable and aloof throne. The deep crimson brocade of her corset - the only nod to colour other than the gold accents on her mask - accentuated her stunning breasts and the perfection of her form, and the bare skin of her lovely thighs seemed pale as snow when juxtaposed against the black shroud of her skirt's enfolding shadow.

She was ethereal.

She was... a goddess of magic and music and desire and night's long, dark shadows.

She was perfect in every conceivable way.

And I couldn't find even a single one of the million words I would need to be able to tell her all that.

So, instead, I mutely lifted my phone.

"Oh," she said softly, surprised.

She straightened, pushed back her shoulders and turned partly into profile, staring through the armour of the mask at me as I snapped three quick shots of her.

And then I slunk over to her and showed her what I thought was the best of the three.

"You're... beautiful," I breathed.

Her eyes flickered behind her mask.

She shifted; stared down at the screen.

She took a soft, shivery little breath.

"Thank you," she said, almost at a whisper.

And then she suddenly leaned in to brush her lips against my cheek.

A little sound escaped me. I lowered my phone and drew back a hair's breadth from her.

My heart was hammering and that briefest touch of her lips had... had shaken and captivated me... and I couldn't work out why.

She sighed and looked away.

"I'm going to take all this off now," she said in a subdued little voice.

"I'm... going to go drink my wine and wait for you, then," I answered, almost mechanically.

"Oh. Okay."

I slunk back to her kitchen.

I sat on one of her lonely little chairs by her lonely little table.

I took a large gulp of my Rosé.

I shivered and bit down the moan as an aftershock of her evanescent kiss ran up and down my spine.

And I stared down at the well-worn table top, bouncing a leg to distract my body as I wondered what on Earth was going on with me.

.:.

"Mm. It's late," I sighed.

"Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun."

"Thank you. Thank you for the lovely evening and the fantastic company. This was so much better than my date would have been."

She smiled, pleased. "You're welcome. It was nice to have you here. Do you have far to go?"

"Nah, I'm in Putney. I'm also a South-of-the-river girl."

"Okay, that's not too bad then."

I stood and stretched, groaning softly. Then I picked up my handbag.

"I'll walk you downstairs if you like?" she offered.

"Don't be silly. I'll say goodbye here and that way you can stay nice and warm indoors."

"Mm. Okay."

She followed me to the door and opened it for me. "Want a scarf?" she said.

"I mean... if you've got one free..."

And I paused, strangely but not unpleasantly discomforted, as she freed a long black one from her coat rack and came to me and draped it gently around my neck.

I shivered as she fiddled briefly, adjusting the fall of fabric and smoothing it out over my shoulders with her deft and gentle fingers...

"There you go. That will keep off the chill."

I stroked the wool, surprised by how soft and fine it was.

And I stared up into her extraordinary eyes.

My heart went all strange on me again and there was a wild, weird pang in my chest...

She held my gaze for a moment; then she flushed and looked down and away.

The moment passed.

And a mad little bit of me regretted that bitterly.

She took a slow breath.

And so did I.

"So. Erin... "

"Uh huh..." I said, still all dreamy and strange.

"Are you free at all on Saturday?"

I gathered my thoughts back in. "I have nothing important on," I said.

She shifted position against her door frame. I watched her, waiting patiently for whatever she was about to ask me.

"Can I... tempt you to join me for coffee somewhere again? Or... maybe a late lunch? I can tell you about the party."

She was flushed and uncertain; only one of the two suited her.

And...

And I'd enjoy it, I thought suddenly. I'd enjoy lunch with her. It would be a welcome change from my usually barren weekends...

"I'd like that," I admitted. "I'd... like that a lot."

She seemed to relax. "Great. Um. I know a nice little place near the park, if you'd like? "

"Which park?"

"My park. Kennington park."

"Okay. Let me know what time," I said.

"I will. Um. Erin?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. Thanks for coming over. I... appreciated it."

"It was nice to spend time with you," I said. "It was... calming. You're fun to be around. You're so... nice to be around."

She smiled.

"So I'll see you Saturday then?"

"Definitely. I want photos from you at the masquerade," I said.

"I'll make sure you get them," she said. "Um..."

"What is it?"

"No. No, never mind. It's silly..."

"What is it?" I repeated, soft but insistent nonetheless.

"I was... I was just wondering if I'd be pushing my luck if I asked for... a hug."

I stared up at her.

Her smile faded slightly, grew uncertain...

And then she let out a little breathy gasp of surprise as I stepped right in against her and wrapped my arms around her and crushed her against me.

Nobody ever asked me for hugs any more.

She shivered; I closed my eyes and sighed out as I felt her tuck her face in against me.

Her arms were warm and snug around me; I felt her hand shift slightly on the small of my back - a wonderfully delicious and mushy sensation for someone as deprived of touch as I was.

"This is nice," she whispered, after a moment. "You're... nice."

"You can have this whenever you want it. I love hugs. Nobody else ever wants them. Oh my God, Hannah. I needed this so much..."

"Ditto," she breathed. "Thank you. I'll be demanding more of these."

She squeezed me once, then released me.

"Let me know when you're home safely, will you?"

"I will," I answered. "Sleep well."

"I'll... try."

I turned and walked down the passageway towards the stairs, glancing back once at her along the way. She raised her hand and curled her fingers - a shy little farewell.

I smiled and turned away.

She was lovely.

She was absolutely lovely.

I was glad to have discovered such a wonderful and unlikely new friend.

.:.

Friday night came, and as usual I'd retired to my room to escape my housemates and their incessant drama. I'd spent thirty minutes trying to find something to watch before resigning myself to a shoddy C-grade Romcom.

And now I lay there like a sandbank as the noise and nonsense washed gently over me.

I was horribly bored.

I was horribly lonely.

But I had literally nowhere better to be than where I was.

And that was goading me like a bramble branch to my back.

I was just pondering the energy I'd need to expend to reach for my glasses and a dog-eared novel when my phone tinkled and my video paused mid popcorn moment.

I snorted up out of my demi-doze and squinted with bleary eyes at the green message window.

Too blurry to make out. Probably one of my friends memeing or engaging in drunken shenanigans.

I grumbled to myself, fumbled for my glasses and pulled them on. Then I fought a brief battle with my lock screen and managed to open my messages.

It was from Hannah.

A strange, uncapitalised little hello.

I pondered the five lonely letters.

Her party should still be in full swing; it was well past naughty o'clock and she should be on the dance floor "busting out her moves" as she'd put it.

And I somehow knew that something was wrong.

Hi you. How's the party? I responded.

lonely and... difficult came her response after more than a minute.

I sighed. I sometimes hated my strange intuitions.

Oh no! Why!

are you busy

I knew a cry for help when I saw one.

So I answered honestly and simply.

No. Need a friend?

And almost before I could take another breath my phone began to vibrate from her incoming call.

I fumbled at it and raised it to my ear.

"Hannah?" I said, fuzzy and stumbling slightly as I engaged my brain.

"Hey, Erin," she said softly. She sounded... different, somehow.

"Hey yourself. What's going on? You don't sound... right."

"I'm... Oh, Erin, I'm so sorry to force myself on you like this..."