The New Girl

I left my phone on but Sofia didn't reply. By breakfast, after yet another sleep-deprived night I was convinced I had my answer, I'd pushed things too far, she'd obviously tired of the charade. I thought about taking a sick day, dreading the prospect of having to face her at work, but as I stepped out of the shower my phone buzzed. Half dreading what she'd say I opened the text. 'Me too, 8.30 at L'Escala?'

L'Escala was a smart tapas bar in an upmarket part of town. I'd only been there once several years ago and I remembered it's cosy ambience, the sort of place you'd go for a special date with your wealthy boyfriend. Once again I struggled to separate fact from fiction, had she chosen it because she was still playing along with the whole Malcolm thing? Whatever her reasons my heart was racing, we had a 'date' and I felt certain it would be decisive one way or another. Texted back 'Yes', dressed quickly and headed to the office.

Sofia was already there when I arrived, she greeted me as she always did and I realised that there was going to be no mention of our arrangement that evening. It was strange and unsettling. I had no idea whether the text was anything other than part of the game. Had she any intention of meeting me or was she simply playing along? I knew I should ask her outright but it felt like doing so would violate an unspoken rule, like a character in a movie turning to address the audience. So we had our coffee, went to lunch and I, at least, pretended nothing had happened. Sofia maintained her usual good humour while I gradually unravelled. By the end of the day, I was a nervous wreck.

When I got home I had no idea what to do. If she didn't show up I'd feel like an idiot. On the other hand, if she went and I wasn't there, she'd think I'd played some sort of cruel joke. Either way, someone would feel foolish and given how things had worked out, I felt it should be me. Then I faced the 'what to wear' dilemma. Too dressy and I ran the risk of much greater humiliation, too little and I'd seem indifferent. As I stood frantically picking through my wardrobe I caught sight of myself in the mirror and realised how ridiculously I was behaving. Mum was right, I was so risk-averse I hardly dared do anything. Denise, Stacy and most of all Agnieszka all led me forward, enabled me to find myself, yet here I was at twenty-four still dithering around refusing to take responsibility for myself.

I grabbed my new summer dress and a pair of strappy heels that I'd bought because I thought they looked sexy and never worn. If this was a date I was going to look the best I could, and if I got stood up then anyone who bothered to notice wouldn't imagine it was my fault. I put on my favourite earrings, the necklace Mum and Dad gave for graduation, and even some eyeliner and lipstick, although I'm not big on make-up. When I inspected myself in the mirror I was shocked at the transformation, it was like looking at a stranger, someone far more glamorous than my everyday persona. Normally I might have lost my nerve but I wasn't going to permit that tonight. With a deal more confidence than I felt, I hailed a taxi and set off.

All my prevarication coupled with heavy traffic meant that by the time we pulled up outside L'Escala it was already 8.50 and I was late. All my conflicted emotions were superfluous, I'd messed everything up, even if Sofia had come she was almost certainly gone by now. I paid the cabbie and without waiting for change, hurried into the bar with as much dignity as my panic would allow.

Inside L'Escala was a dimly lit confection of soft flamenco, red leather booths, black tie waiters and stylish clientele. I burst in with a bull in the china shop momentum that seemed to startle the manager, an improbably handsome Spaniard who was leaning against the bar. I scanned the room but I couldn't see Sofia. My disappointment must have been obvious.

"Lizzie?" The manager offered me a reassuring smile.

"Your friend is in the last booth." He inclined his head towards the back of the bar.

Relief gave birth to anxiety. I muttered my thanks and weaved my way through the handful of customers standing by the bar. In the far corner of the room, I saw Sofia, sitting alone in a small booth nursing an untouched glass of wine. She looked beautiful, her hair was swept back in a French knot and she was wearing an exquisite black silk dress perfectly offset with a simple gold necklace. I know it's a terrible cliché but she took my breath away, I wanted her so much I hardly dared to approach her. Then she looked up and her beaming smile swept away all my doubts. I hurried to her as she stood up and we hugged. Feeling her body pressed against mine, surrounded by the subtle atmosphere of her scent, I imagined us long lost lovers, but of course, we weren't.

"I'm so sorry I'm late! I got caught in this horrible traffic and I was afraid you'd have given up on me. I feel terrible."

She took my hands in hers and leaned forward kissing me on the cheek.

"Shhh, It doesn't matter, you're here now. Come and sit down and have some wine."

She led me into the booth and we sat side by side, our hips gently touching as we chatted about all the inconsequential trivia that surrounded the elephant in the room. Neither of us seemed willing to confront what we were doing there, though to even the most casual observer it must have seemed obvious. We ordered some tapas and then a second bottle of wine. As the evening wore on I felt brave or tipsy enough to broach the subject.

"You know it wasn't just traffic that made me late. I wasn't sure you would come, that it wasn't just some stupid game that had gotten out of hand... I was afraid."

I couldn't look at her as I spoke, it was all to raw, too risky and I felt terribly vulnerable. Sofia leaned closer and I could feel her breath on my cheek as she spoke.

"I would never want to hurt you, Lizzie. You mean too much to me."

I turned to face her, we were so close my nose brushed against hers. Her eyes were glazed with unshed tears and I suspect mine were too. I reached for the back of her neck, drew her closer and we kissed. I can't describe how wonderful that felt, her lips pressing against mine, our tongues shyly teasing each other. It was arousing, of course, but so much more. As much as I'd longed for this, I never truly dared believe it could come true. Yet here we were, in this place, at this moment, together. I was in heaven.

We were interrupted by a waiter, who discretely coughed by way of gaining our attention.

"Excuse me, ladies may I clear your table."

He gestured to the selection of empty dishes in front of us, studiously ignoring our embarrassment as we tried to compose ourselves. One of us must have nodded because he began gathering up the plates while we sat in silence like a couple of naughty children. With everything piled onto a tray, he smiled and with a casual "Enjoy the rest of your evening", he walked back to the bar. I turned to Sofia, conscious I was still some shade of red.

"That was awkward."

It was an inconsequential remark made to excuse my discomfort, but Sofia looked troubled.

"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Lizzie?"

I was shocked she could take it that way.

"God no, are you joking? I've thought about nothing else since the day I first saw you."

"So why didn't you say something? Why bother with all this nonsense, the fictitious boyfriend, the lies?"

I didn't know what to say. I explaining my actions felt too risky, so I fell back on half-truths.

"I think it's part of being an only child, you live in the shadow of loneliness. I've always had a desperate need to feel connected to others, but I know how society treats anyone different. I never wanted that to be me. I've always been frightened of rejection..."

At best it was a barely adequate account but Sofia seemed to accept it. She stroked my hair and I reached for her hand holding it against my cheek.

"You thought I would reject you?"

I nodded rather pitifully and conscious of the woeful impression I was making.

"When you were so enthusiastic about my made-up boyfriend I thought, you're beautiful, it's only a matter of time before the real thing comes along.."

She shook her head.

"Didn't you see my enthusiasm was for you, not the game? That was just a way of sharing something with you."

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise, I've always been hopeless reading people. I feel like a fool. Can you forgive me?"

She teased me with her consideration, then with a grin, she said.

"Well, I suppose as long as you're my fool, then I guess I'll have to. But I think you'd better kiss me now before I have second thoughts."

Somewhere, carefully wrapped within the invitation was a challenge that I had no intention of failing. I put my arms around her and pulled her into the most passionate kiss I could manage within the confines of the booth. I was clear we both wanted each other, I could feel the sharp points of her nipples pressing into me and I realised I was already wet. We kissed for a minute or so, to the point where it was becoming inappropriate for even the darkest corner. As we separated, breathless, there was a light smattering of applause from a couple seated at the bar. The girl raised a glass to us and this time even Sofia managed to blush.

"I think it's time to go."

We gathered up our things and what little dignity we could muster and headed for the door. As we passed the couple, the girl caught my arm. She was obviously a little drunk and leaned towards me.

"You two look so sexy, she really has the hots for you."

I glanced at Sofia who was already by the door, smiled at the girl and said, "I hope so."

Outside the streets were quiet, it was past eleven but the air was still spring warm. Sofia and I stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. If it had just been about sex it would have been easy, but going from despair to bed in a few short hours might endanger the delicately point we'd arrived at and I knew I couldn't take the risk. Perhaps Sofia felt the same because she grabbed my hand.

"I feel like walking, will you come with me?"

She hardly need ask, I would have said yes to any suggestion that kept me by her side.

We strolled down a side streets, hand in hand simply enjoying being together. It was one of the most exclusive areas of town, the streets lined with imposing town-houses that obviously cost millions and were for the most part unoccupied. We didn't say much, an idle comment here and there, too absorbed by the tangle of possibilities still emanating from our first kiss. I don't know how long we wandered adrift among those silent streets. To me, they were as insubstantial as a movie set, a mere backdrop for a story that had yet to be written.

Eventually, as it always does, reality reasserted itself and our path led us to the never silent thoroughfare of a main road. We stopped dazzled by the noise of traffic and lights blazing from empty shop windows, neither of us wanting the intrusion, yet realising that we could go no further. I glanced at my watch, it was half-past two, we'd been walking for three hours. Sofia sighed, weary or regretful, I couldn't tell.

"I should go home."

I knew she was right, any further and we risked spoiling things, but I was reluctant to part on this melancholy note. I looked back, the house we had just passed, another abandoned palace, it had a staircase leading down to a tiny basement garden. I grabbed Sofia's hand.

"Come with me." I dragged her to the front gate, a heavy cast iron affair that squeaked alarmingly as I pushed it open. Sofia was giggling.

"We can't, someone will see us. We'll get arrested."

"Shhhh, no one will know if we keep quiet, the place is empty."

She allowed me to lead her down the stone steps into the gloom of the basement. Two giant potted tree ferns overhung the narrow space shielding it from the street. Unable to contain my feelings, I threw my arms around her, pulling her hard against me and kissing her.

Sofia seemed taken aback by my urgency and I worried I had gone too far. I broke off the kiss, breathless searching her eyes for rejection, but all I could see was my own wild desire reflected back at me.

"Are you OK?"

She didn't reply, but whatever was troubling her suddenly seemed to pass and she kissed me back with the same reckless abandon. We locked in a tight embrace, her breasts crushed against me, my own swollen to a maddening sensitivity. Sofia's added height allowed me to reach her perfect bum so I began to stroke and squeeze her through her silk dress. She moaned into our kiss, obviously turned on, but when I tried to ease up the hem, she grabbed my hand, moving back to prevent me from going further.

I was frustrated but before I had the chance to react, she reached for my breasts and began to rub her thumbs over my straining nipples. Now it was my turn to moan. My breasts felt as tender as if she were touching my clit. Perhaps it was the added emotional component, her beauty or the weeks of frustration, but I knew if she kept it up I would come.

Sofia carefully edged me towards the brink. Then as I was writhing and panting beneath her expert hands, she eased her thigh between my legs. My summer dress, which was was flared at the waist, folded back as her thigh rose to meet my very wet pussy. The sensation of her satin skin brushing across my inner thigh was exquisite and I couldn't help but crush her to me in trembling embrace. Sofia pulled me onto her thigh. My panties were soaked and I could feel my juices running over her as she forced the narrow strip of fabric between my swollen labia. My hips jerked two or three times grinding my clit against her, but there was no way I could hold out any longer. I cried out burying my face amidst the tangle of hair that tumbled from her ruined French knot.

My whole body trembled in the aftermath. Sofia held me close whispering endearments and stroking my back, as I tried to regain my senses. I had never come with such urgency and there was a scary depth to this that went way beyond sex. My climax was like a flashbulb that had suddenly illuminated a terrifying void, that I knew with absolute certainty only Sofia could fill. I felt horribly exposed and vulnerable, but as I was waking to this insight, a light suddenly flooded the basement from the bay window above us. The house wasn't deserted after all.

Startled we both looked up. A man wrapped in an ornate dressing gown was staring down at us. He had a mobile to his ear and was talking. Sofia grabbed my hand.

"Let's get out of here, he's calling the police."

I was still shaky on my legs, but the adrenalin kicked in and I managed to stagger my way up the narrow stairs hanging onto Sofia's hand. As we crashed through the gate onto the pavement, the man was gesturing at us and shouting down the phone. The sort of money that buys mansions tends to have a similar effect on the police and I realised we didn't have much time before a patrol car showed up. We ran back to the main road, frantically looking around for a taxi. For several agonising minutes there was none to be found, then, thankfully, as a siren approached from the distance a taxi appeared. I'm not sure he would have stopped if Sofia hadn't stepped into the road, but it did the trick. We piled into the back and drove off just as a patrol car flew by.

We both slumped into the seat, still shaken by the close call. I didn't really know whether to laugh or cry, both options seemed apposite. Oddly Sofia appeared more distressed than me by the whole incident. Even in the dim light of the taxi, I could see her face was drained of its natural warmth. Her hands were clenched into fists on her lap and her whole body seemed racked with tension. I laid my hand over hers.

"Sofia, are you alright?"

She looked at me and managed a faint smile. I wasn't convincing.

"Fine, I'm OK really.."

"You don't look OK. I'm sorry, I never should have dragged you down there, it was a stupid idea."

She shook her head and wove her fingers through mine.

"No it wasn't... I'm tired that's all. No regrets."

It was a relief to hear that, even if the rest of it made no sense. We lapsed into silence, side by side holding hands until the taxi pulled up outside Sofia's flat. If I'd had any doubt what would happen next, her hurried exit made it clear. There was no kiss or any meaningful goodbye, she jumped out of the cab and shut the door on me, clearly desperate to escape.

"See you soon Lizzie. Sleep tight." The pain in my expression must have been obvious because I glimpsed it in her face too and I felt she might cry. But it was just a glimpse because she abruptly turned her back on me, ran up the front stairs and was gone.

The taxi pulled out again and headed for my flat. The tears I thought I'd seen in her eyes flowed freely down my cheeks. I saw the driver glance at me in his rear-view mirror and turned away not wanting to hear whatever grain of wisdom he might toss in my direction. Twenty minutes later I was home and I had never felt so desolate and lonely. I crawled into bed, my mind racing as I endlessly replayed the evening in all its glorious and awful detail, until some time close to dawn exhaustion made me sleep.

I woke up around noon the following day. The first thing I did was check my mobile, but there were no missed calls. I didn't know if I should call her or wait for her to call me. Mostly I had a sickening dread that either way was going to be bad and I couldn't face it. By five I was practically climbing the walls. A dozen times I picked up the phone, paralysed by indecision. Finally, I called Mum. I told myself it was just to hear another voice, but of course, it was more. She heard my pain and insisted I come 'home'. I didn't take much persuading.

She fed me, plied me with wine and let me spill the whole confusing mess. Mum's a great listener, I've always told her she should buy a couch and set herself up as a therapist, but she says hugging the clients probably isn't ethical. All I know is it works for me. I ended up with my head resting in her shoulder until I finally talked myself to a standstill. We sat in silence for a while then she stated the obvious, just so I could hear it outside my head.

"You know you have to call her, don't you?"

I nodded, then kissed her hand, taking brief respite in the cocoon of her love.

I spent the night at Mum and Dad's, Sofia didn't call. Sunday morning after breakfast, I made my way home. Mum said "Good luck" as she kissed me goodbye and Dad's reassuring smile echoed the sentiment. I felt better, but I was still shaky at the prospect of what I had to do.

Once I was home I decided that a phone call, supposing she even answered, wasn't going to solve anything. I had to see her, talk it out face to face. The prospect scared me a lot but the alternative for once seemed worse. I stared at my wardrobe trying to decide what to wear, it was like choosing an outfit for a funeral and a wedding at the same time. I knew I was prevaricating, avoiding action that would likely cause me more pain. Finally, I grabbed my green skirt, a simple cotton blouse and a pair of low heels. It was a compromise but it would have to do.

There were no taxis around on a Sunday so I caught the bus, it was slower and gave me far too much time to rehearse what I would say. Although it was a bright spring day, no distraction served to quell my nerves. My palms were clammy and I dreaded each stop that brought me closer to her door. In other circumstances, I might have lost my nerve and turned back, but I refused to give myself that option.

Forty minutes later the bus pulled up to the stop nearest Sofia's flat. Despite the warm sun, I felt cold, shivery as if I was coming down with something, though I knew it was more like stage fright. Her flat was about fifty metres away and I eyed the blank windows half expecting to see her looking down on me. She wasn't of course. It felt like a cowards reprieve. I knew her gaze would force me straight to her door, without it I found myself walking past the house and further down the street. When I was out the line of sight I stopped and turned back trying to summon up the nerve to ascend those steps and ring the bell. I know this sounds stupid but I couldn't help it, I was sick with anxiety.