Anonymous Lover Ch. 04

He laughed, totally unrepentant. "Integrity and pussy don't necessarily go well together, Beth. Besides, I didn't hear you complaining at the time." He paused. "So do you think Susan's turned gay, or something?"

I shrugged. "Do people suddenly turn gay? I doubt it.....not the majority, anyway. Maybe you did put her off men for life though, or perhaps she's just looking for a little adventure with a twist. Frankly, I'm not sure what she's looking for....certainly not any of the guys in that bar - I've watched her turn all of them away."

"So what's next?"

"She suggested we meet tomorrow evening in the same place. I got the impression she was assessing me - checking me out, if you like. I'm curious where this is going so I think I'll turn up."

He nodded in agreement. "Don't forget to tell me all the hot details."

*****

That second evening with Susan was enjoyable. She was a good conversationalist and in no time at all we were comfortable with each other. She didn't talk about her relationships at first, staying on relatively safe topics like our respective interests - movies, theatre, jobs and so on. I found that she had left her job - the one where David worked - and had secured a better paying one in another part of town. She had rented a small flat, bought a car and a new wardrobe.

"Sounds like a lifestyle change to me, Susan," I said, "so what caused all of that?"

She fiddled with a coaster on the table. "I had this guy - a relatively new experience. We'd only been going out a little while but I really liked him. Anyway, it didn't work out...he found someone else. I was down in the dumps for a while but he did me a favour really, as I was in a bit of a rut. I woke up one morning and thought 'Fuck it! Here I am, 22 years old and I've been doing the same thing for years'...so I changed my job. The extra money helped me with the other changes - you know, car, clothes..."

I had noticed her outfit when she walked in. She was dressed in a two piece linen suit, a soft beige colour, the jacket and skirt beautifully tailored. She wore a contrasting blouse the colour of burnt toffee that set off her eyes, and her shoes and handbag were perfectly matched. I figured she wouldn't have got much change out of seven hundred bucks for it. "Your suit is lovely."

"Thanks. It was a bit of an extravagance, but what the hell."

"So are you in a relationship now?"

She was silent for a moment, as if reluctant to talk. "No, not really. I really didn't want to go through the same thing again - "

She broke off as she spotted two guys heading towards us. "Uh uh. Incoming. Watch out. Do you want to stay and fight them off, or find somewhere else?"

"I'm sick of beating off male ego with a stick. Do you have somewhere?"

"Yeah, come on." She drained her glass and we moved out.

*****

Her flat was small but cosy - with a tiny kitchen, a small bathroom, sitting area and a single bedroom. She had spent a bit of time and money doing it up and it showed: fresh paint gleamed in the soft lighting, contrasting the bright colours on the various fabrics that I could see. I dropped my coat over the back of a chair and she hung it behind the door. "This is nice."

"My love nest.....well, nest anyway. Not much loving been done here. Do you want a drink?"

"I'm driving, so I'd better be careful. Just a small one."

We went though to the kitchen and I watched her fill two large glasses from a bottle.

"Jesus! Big small helping."

"You can sleep over if you like. The sofa turns into a bed...probably as hard as a rock, but a couple more drinks like that and you won't notice."

"I'll see how I go." I sipped at the wine. "Mmm. New Zealand Marlborough, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Cloudy Bay. My favourite." She kicked off her shoes and flopped on the sofa. "So what were we talking about?"

"I asked if you were in a relationship."

She moved her arm expansively around, indicating the room. "Well, as you can see, there's just me and my stuff. No smelly boots, shaving grouts in the sink, dirty jocks on the floor...."

"So are you?"

"No. I told you - I don't want the angst and pain."

"So what were you doing in the bar?"

She looked at me sharply. "You're very direct, aren't you? I could ask you the same thing."

"You could, yes." I considered my words carefully. "I'm looking for something different."

"Different?" She looked at me. "Different to what?"

"To what I've got. The guy I'm with is......possessive. I guess it's a male thing. I enjoy the sex but the relationship is strained."

"So you go and sit in a bar for God knows how long in the hope that something better comes along? That's implausible."

I smiled. "It does sound a bit off, doesn't it."

"And I noticed that you weren't interested in guys."

"Not the ones in a bar. I said I wanted something different. Look..." I set my glass down on the counter. "...I don't know what I want, right? I don't know where this is going or whether I want it or not. I do know that I'm ready to try something new, and I also know that I like you."

"You don't know anything about me."

She was wrong. I actually knew a great deal about her, right down to the little tricks she liked in her sex life, but I didn't think it was time to tell her that. "No, I don't - but I've enjoyed what I've seen so far. Don't be spooked by me, Susan. I'm not a threat. I can leave if you want."

She fiddled with a strand of hair above her ear, twisting it so that it stuck out at an odd angle. When she spoke her voice was low. "No, don't do that. Not yet." She lifted her face and met my gaze. "I'm....I'm a little vulnerable right now. I don't know what I want either, but I certainly don't want any more grief."

I reached up to her face, very slowly, watching her reaction as I touched her hair, smoothing down the errant tuft that she had been twisting, feeling its glossy sheen under my fingers. Her eyes were huge, pools of dark toffee like those of a gazelle startled by the hunter's light; and her mouth was closed, lips soft and pink. "I think we need each other, Susan," I whispered. "There's no need to be lonely any more."

As I stroked her hair I watched her face change: the pupils dilated as if she was suddenly seeing me for the first time - really seeing me - and a new awareness suffused their depths, lenses into the well of her soul. I realised that my fingertips were no longer smoothing her hair but were caressing the back of her head, moving down to the nape of her neck, acknowledging its warmth. She raised her hand and touched one slim finger to my temple, sliding it down lightly over the side of my face, across my cheek and down to my mouth, brushing feather light across my lips and halting there as if to silence any words that I might speak. My lips parted slightly and I tentatively touched the tip of my tongue against her fingertip, expecting rejection; but she watched me steadily with those soft brown eyes, calm and untroubled as I opened my mouth and allowed her finger to slide into me.

Her whole demeanour altered from passive to active - subtle little changes; she straightened a little, one knee moving out so that it brushed against my thigh as I stood in front of her, and she tilted her head a fraction. I could see a pulse at the base of her throat beating softly; I watched as her lips opened slightly, full and moist; and I felt her breath on my face as soft as a butterfly's kiss as she leaned forward, bending slightly, turning her head so that her lips fitted snugly over mine.

I don't know how long we stood there, kissing in her kitchen - it might have only been a few seconds, but it felt much longer. I'd never kissed a woman before. Her lips were incredibly soft - much softer than David's, and her tongue was softer too, gently exploring my lips and probing into my mouth. My senses were swamped by her: the taste of wine on her mouth, the fresh clean aroma of her hair; the spicy tang of her perfume and the press of her hand on my waist, clasping me gently, pulling me forward, and the warmth of her knee nestling against my thighs. I cupped her face with my free hand, acknowledging the lustre of her skin. She twisted around, breaking the contact of our lips as she tried to put her glass of wine on the counter behind her, and I heard it fall and the splash of its contents. She shrugged and moved onto me again, her lips more demanding, and her right hand as it came up behind me, into my hair.

I placed my hand on her right breast, my thumb stroking her nipple though her clothes, and she broke the kiss and looked down at it before she spoke.

"This is too quick, Elizabeth. I need time...."

"Why?"

"I don't know.....it's good. I like it...I like you. I just don't want to rush into anything. I need a bit more time."

Our kissing had really turned me on - I could feel the heat of my desire, the oozing of my juices into my pants, the material soaking, sopping wet. I wanted to go further with her, but I didn't want to spook her - she was so unsure of herself. I backed off.

"I understand, Susan. I'll be here when you decide."

She nodded in acquiescence and pressed her lips on mine again, butterfly soft kisses sweeter than honey.

*****

"So what happened tonight?" David demanded.

"Nothing much...a few drinks in a bar - "

"I'd hoped for something to happen a little quicker."

I felt my patience going. "What the hell did you expect, David? That she'd greet me with open arms and follow me back here like a well trained dog, to forgive you for rooting your sister? Get real! Hell, even she doesn't know what she wants, other than to avoid being fucked over again. She's spooked, David, and even if its possible to build a bridge it's going to take some time.... so get your mind above your waist for a change!"

He stared at me. "Keep your shirt on, Beth. Jesus! I just wanted to - "

"I know what you want, and if it happens, it happens. Just back off."

He held up his hands in conciliation, and we changed the subject.

*****

I heard nothing from Susan for almost a week and I was beginning to think that she had cut me loose, but then I received a brief SMS asking me to dinner on the Saturday. I turned up at her flat in a new outfit I had bought, clutching a bottle of her favourite wine and some flowers. She opened the door at my knock.

"Hi Elizabeth. Wow! You look great! Come in." She kissed me on the cheek.

"Do you like it?" I did a twirl and my skirt flared out in a blaze of colour, showing off my legs.

"I love it...must be the season for colour..." she indicated her own brightly coloured dress.

"...anyway, come in. I've made a cocktail to start off, if you'd like."

I put the wine down on the kitchen counter, remembering what we had done here only the week before...those first tentative steps to something more, perhaps. I looked around, noticing how tidy everything was, the candles casting soft light, the table set for two in the corner of the room.

"The flat looks lovely, Susan."

"Yeah, it scrubbed up well, hasn't it."

I watched her as she poured me a drink. She was wearing a plain white blouse and a pleated skirt in a bold red and purple print, and her hair was tied back in a pony tail that glistened blue-black. Her make up was skillfully done - a little blush, mascara, lipstick. Her skin glowed with health and vitality and her eyes were bright. I thought she looked good.

"Here you go, Elizabeth." She handed me a drink, and our fingers touched for a moment. She clinked her glass against mine. "To friendship".

The meal was beautiful, and I was touched by how much trouble she had gone to, and impressed by her frantic forays into the little kitchen to bring out a succession of delicious dishes when it was obvious that she was not a natural cook. By the end of it she was perspiring, with wisps of hair hanging down over her temples, but she was happy that all her work had turned out such a good result.

We left the debris of the meal on the table and the two empty wine bottles and moved to the lounge. She kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the sofa. "Enough formality. Make yourself comfortable."

I sat next to her, and broached the subject that we had avoided all through the meal. "I am comfortable Susan.....but are you?"

She glanced at me. "Yes....I think so. I'm sorry about last week...I hope that I didn't put you off."

I smiled at her. "I did check out my breath and armpits when I got home, in case it was me."

She was mortified. "No, no....it was nothing to do with you....it was me!" She fiddled with the ice in her drink, buying a little time before she responded. "I just felt, you know....it was moving too quickly. I wanted time to stand back and think about what I wanted."

"And did you?"

She smiled. "I thought about it....in fact I've thought about little else. I'm still not sure what I want, though."

"That's not surprising." I put my drink on the table and I took her hand. "What was it Confucius was supposed to have said? '...Wherever you go, go with all your heart'....well, something like that, anyway." I was silent for a while, feeling the warmth in her hand. "Perhaps it will be a little easier if I told you what I feel?"

She nodded, her eyes on my face, and I pressed on. "I've never had any sort of relationship with a woman, Susan....I've always considered myself straight, you know? I guess I was curious, though, which is why I was in the bar, looking, and it just happened to be you that caught my eye. Until I came here I wasn't sure though....you know.... whether a woman would turn me on...." I looked at her and I could feel my cheeks colouring. "Shit, this is difficult!"

She put her other hand over mine. "It is, isn't it? ....we don't need to talk about this now - "

"Yes, we do. There are unanswered questions that will get in the way if we don't." I took a deep breath. "I really enjoyed what we did last week. I walked out of here as hot as a pistol - you know.....I mean, I would have gone a lot further if you had wanted to. I've been sitting on the edge of my chair all week, hoping that you'd call back."

"Aren't you worried about it, though?"

"If you mean having a relationship with a woman, not really. If we are both comfortable with it then why not? It doesn't mean that we have totally changed our sexuality or anything dramatic like that....perhaps we are just enlarging the ones we have."

She nodded, and I went on. "If you are asking whether I'm worried about having a relationship with you in particular, though, that's a different issue - but it is always the question whenever you meet someone new. Yes, we might find that we are incompatible in a week or a month or perhaps even a year or two, and we might decide to split...but that's life, isn't it? If we worried too much about that we'd never get to know anyone."

She smiled. "You're right. I guess...if I hadn't wanted to see you again - um, to go further, you know, I wouldn't have invited you tonight. I'm...I'm just not very good at this....so what happens now?"

I released my hand from hers and touched her face. "Let's just see, shall we?"

For a moment we looked into each other's eyes, then I leaned in toward her and our mouths met. She had that same spicy taste, the sweetness of wine on her breath, and her lips were just as moist and soft as I remembered. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and I felt her hand at the back of my head, pulling me forward. We toppled sideways onto the sofa, her feet still on the floor so that her body was twisted underneath me; I held her face, pushing my own tongue into her mouth, exploring her taste and texture, breaking off to kiss the tip of her nose and the soft skin under her ears, and the smooth scented flesh of her neck. She lifted her legs off the floor so that we were crammed together onto the narrow sofa together, me half across her. Her right leg was bent at the knee and her skirt had ridden up; I put my hand on her thigh, acknowledging the firm plasticity of her flesh, sliding it upwards, feeling her roll over towards me and the press of her breasts against mine.

We kissed for a long time, tongues dancing, sometimes just the very tips flickering against each other, exquisitely sensitive, and sometimes letting their full slippery lengths extend against each other, writhing like mating eels, each sucking in the taste and texture of the other. Our hands began to roam; I had raised one thigh over her legs and I could feel her fingers dipping down towards its juncture, touching the elastic of my panties and brushing over the fabric covering my sex. Her skirt was pushed up and I rubbed against her mound with my left hand, the thin material moist under my fingers.

At length she pulled away, disentangling herself, rolling off the sofa to her feet and reaching down for my hand. "Come with me."

Her bedroom was dark aside from the square of light that was flung into the room from the open door. I undressed her, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse until she gently pushed aside my fingers and deftly undid them, pulling it off. I unzipped her skirt and she raised her hips to assist me as I pulled it down, over her butt and her long legs. Her underclothes were small and lacy; I unclipped the bra at the front between the swelling globes of her breasts and she shucked it off, allowing them to fall free. They were firm, capped by rose coloured nipples erect with her desire. I seized the thin straps of her knickers and slid them down her thighs, watching as her pussy clasped briefly at the wet material before releasing it. She had shaved, leaving only a neat triangle of black hair fashioned on her pudenda, pointing like an arrowhead to the prize beneath. I caught the scent of her sex, the musky tang of a healthy woman in full arousal.

I regarded her as she lay naked on the bed. Her skin was flawless, dark against the white bedspread so that I could see the outline of her body as if in silhouette but there was enough light to also see the details - the neat head with its curtain of hair spread like gossamer silk over the pillow; the creamy texture of her neck and shoulders; the swell of her breasts, fuller and heavier than mine with the dark nipples standing in arousal; the flat stomach, punctuated by the comma of her belly button, sweeping down to the shallow crease above each thigh, each leading to the valley of her sex with its triangle of dark hair and the pout of her labia below it, in deeper shadow. She watched me with trusting eyes as I shed my clothes and climbed beside her, kneeling, looking down at her face. I touched her brow softly, my fingers gentle as I trailed them down over her temples, across the warmth of her cheeks to her mouth, and I felt the heat of her breath and the gentle touch of her tongue as she flicked it lightly across my fingertips. I ran my nails lightly over her neck, down over the smooth texture of her shoulders and to the swell of her right breast, cupping its firmness, then swirling around the firm nub of her right nipple, dark and engorged with desire. I trailed my fingers over the flat muscle of her belly, down to the crisp mat of her pubic hair, then round, past her sex to the long flow of her thighs.

She reached up, pulling my head down to hers and her mouth opened for me, her tongue slithering between my lips, and I brought my fingers up the inside of her legs, then back up across her belly to cup her breast again, rubbing my thumb over her nipple. Her hands were in my hair, holding me, lifting me away slightly so that she could look at my face. She spoke softly.

"I've not been with a woman before, Elizabeth.....show me."

"I will, I will." Words punctuated with hot kisses, sizzling, the taste of her mouth and the slippery probing of her tongue as it mated with mine, the heat of her breasts against me as I leaned over her, nipples like hard pebbles. "I'll teach you all I know, Susan."