The Sun on my Skin Ch. 03

This story, as the title suggests, is the third (and final) part of "The Sun on my Skin" series, and the sequel to 'The Sun on My Skin Ch. 2'. It follows on directly from the events in Chapter 2, but this time, it is the turn of twice-rejected Tina to tell her story. I have tried to ensure that can be read on its own although, inevitably, you'll understand some of the events, and Tina herself, much better if you read Chapters 1 and 2 first.

This has been a long time in the writing, stopped and re-started, dropped and picked up again over 18 months. It has become, therefore, a long story. As with the previous chapters, this too is a lesbian romance with sex rather than simply a 'wham, bam, thank you mam' sex story. I'm sorry if this disappoints some but, hopefully, others will enjoy the slower pace and emotion.

As with chapter 2, the title is misleading as there is again very little sun in the story -- not surprising as it's set in wintertime Britain!. The title, while writing, has been 'The Rain on My Skin', (which is much more credible). However, the rules on Literotica mean that stories in a series must share the same title.

I hope you enjoy and please rate the story and comment if you feel moved to do so -- your feedback is, as always, very much appreciated.

Copyright © ScattySue 2019

=======================================================

PROLOGUE

Bing-ding...

Miriam how are you?

Mary. I'm okay, a bit tired

You were working last night?

Yes

Busy night? Must have been cold sitting in your cab waiting for fares

Bloody cold! But it wasn't the driving that was tiring!

??

It was after my shift finished

Okay confess — what happened?

Can I call you in 10 min?

Sure. Sounds intriguing!

Maybe :-)

"Miriam?"

"Mary."

"Mim, are you okay? You sound nervous; what's up?"

"I, er... Something happened last night."

"Oh, are you okay? What happened? You didn't have an accident when you were driving a passenger, did you?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It was, well I picked up a fare at Salisbury Station last night: two women going to Lower Beechcombe."

"Okay. So?"

"Well, the way they were together, the older one especially, I did wonder if they were, you know, a lesbian couple. I dropped them at this house on the edge of the village which was all dark and looked empty. Anyway, it all got a bit weird because while the older one, Jan or Jane or something her name was, as she walked up to the house, the younger one, Tina, when she came to pay me, asked if I would drive off and then come back in half an hour to collect her."

"Why was that odd, Mim? Perhaps she was just, you know, escorting her there. Anyway, did you go back for her?"

"Yes; I drove away as she wanted and just parked up around the corner since there was no point driving back to town."

"Ha-ha, I suppose you just kept the meter running."

"Too right. Anyway, Mary, twenty-five minutes later I drove back, but this was where it got really odd. When I pulled up outside there was another car parked there, an old green Skoda. After a few minutes of waiting, I beeped the horn and, finally, Tina opened the door and kissed the other woman, Jan — or she might have been Jane — anyway, she kissed her goodbye before coming out. She got into the car and just as I was about to pull away, I saw Jan or whatever her name was, with another woman, who had her hand on Jan's shoulder."

"O-kay, so you think it was some kind of, what, lesbian romantic triangle? Did you ask the woman -- what was her name?"

"Tina. Her name was Tina."

"Right, Tina. Did you ask Tina what was going on? I know you, Mim: I bet you asked her."

"Ha, I didn't have to! As soon as we were moving she told me, 'I've just arranged for Jan, the woman I was in love with, to spend the weekend with Tanwen, the woman I believe Jan is actually in love with and who loves Jan back, even though neither of them realizes that they're in love. I'm either a saint or a masochistic idiot.' That's what she said."

"Bloody hell, Mim; what did you say?"

"What could I say? All I managed was, 'Really?' and she made a noise that was sort of between a laugh and a sob and said, 'Yes, really.' Then she asked if there were any clubs or bars that gays and lesbians went to in Salisbury. She said she, er, she wanted to have a drink, have sex and go dancing, but not necessarily in that order."

"Oh my god! Talk about being direct! And are there any? Gay clubs, I mean."

"Mary, how the bloody hell would I know? I had to say I didn't know of any."

"What did Tina say?"

"Not much, just that it was a pity because she really needed some fun. She looked so disappointed and sad so I...er..."

"What, Miriam?"

"I, um, I... well, I told Tina that if she wanted some company then I was finishing my shift soon, which I was, more or less, and I knew lots of nice pubs."

...

"Mary? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here... I'm just thinking about that talk we had at the gym a couple of weeks ago."

"What talk?"

"Come on Mim, I can tell from your voice you know what I'm talking about; after you accused me of eying up women just because I said the woman on the running machine had a nice bum."

"Oh yeah; we sort of talked about whether we'd ever thought of sleeping with, um, a woman."

"Yes, and I admitted I might have but you said you couldn't ever imagine wanting to."

"Um... yes, I did."

"Do you want to change your answer? No, never mind that: what actually happened last night?"

"She said, okay, if I was up for it."

"Bloody hell, Mim, what did you say?"

"I said yes... to the drink but I wasn't sure about the dancing."

"So... it was just the dancing you weren't sure about? Really?"

"Think about it, Mary: when was the last time I went to a nightclub? I don't know which ones are any good."

"Miriam! You know damn well what I mean; she said she wanted sex!"

"Yes, she did... I... I invited her home with me."

"Oh — my — god! Mim, why?"

"You should have seen her, Mary: she was gorgeous, and there was just something about her..."

"And did you? God, I can't believe I'm asking Miriam Goldman if she had lesbian sex with a woman she picked up in her cab! Well? Did you?"

...

"Yes."

"Wow. Is she, I mean Tina — is she still with you?"

"No. She insisted she had to go so I drove her to the station. Mary, being in bed with her... it was amazing."

"So, are you going to see her again?"

"I wanted to exchange phone numbers but she wouldn't. She said it was just a one-night thing."

...

"Mim, are you working tonight?"

"What? Yes, until nine o'clock. Why?"

"Do you want to come over? I really, really want to know what you and this Tina got up to."

"Uh... you mean, everything, don't you? All the details."

"Yes, absolutely. And, Mim..."

"What, Mary?"

"Um... Peter's away this weekend at his parent's, so it'd be just the two of us... You could stay over."

"You mean, like, overnight?"

"Yes, all night... but I, er, I don't mean in the spare room. Understand?"

"Yes, I think so... Okay... I mean, yes, Mary, I'd love to..."

PART I — Single, Free and... Lonely

Monday 2 November

I sit, apprehensive and nervous, awaiting Jan's arrival. The text that she and Tanwen sent yesterday should have made me feel better, allowing me to be proud that my instincts and self-sacrifice in letting Jan go and orchestrating her and Tanwen's weekend together, had been right. In truth, it hasn't helped.

I suppose I should learn to accept that Jan and I weren't meant to be together, that her desire for a family doomed our relationship from the start, and that I've saved myself some heartache and sadness in the future. It's not easy.

Instead, I feel that Jan is just one more demonstration of my inability to fall for the right women: Angela, just after university, Alex, Jojo and now Jan. Even Anika, the woman Jojo encouraged me to date because she was kind, beautiful, caring and loyal, proves my hopelessness. I decided I wasn't interested and this morning, in my inbox, was an invitation to her engagement party. According to the invitation, she's going to marry a woman named Stephanie. I don't think I'll be going.

Perhaps I should just stick to one-night stands, like Saturday night with that taxi driver, Miriam. Just sex, no worries, no strings. It was her first time with a woman, but I've no anxieties about whether she wants a girlfriend, or has a boyfriend she'll go running back to, or even if she's got some female friend she's had a crush on for years and that sleeping with me suddenly makes her want to act upon. I feel my mouth tighten in a grim smile; that's me: the awakener of hidden, Sapphic desires in 'straight' women so they can find the one they really love...

There's a rumbling, chesty, smoker's cough. "Good morning, Tina," Malcolm calls as I hear the soft beep and whirr as he turns his PC on. To my surprise, he comes into the tiny, cupboard-sized space that everyone rather laughably calls my office.

"Morning Malcolm," I say, glad for the distraction from my melancholic thoughts, "are you okay?" He holds out an envelope. "What's this?"

"It's a copy of the details I've agreed for my retirement. I was hoping to speak with you last Friday, but you left rather early. Janice too," he adds pointedly. I decide that I'm not going to dignify his none-too-subtle innuendo with an answer.

"You could have spoken to me earlier in the day. Anyway, what has been agreed by you and HR?"

He looks a little irritated that I'm not reading the letter but answers anyway. "Well, my official retirement date will be the fifth of February, that's a Friday, but my last day in work will be two weeks before that, the twenty-second of January as I shall be taking the two weeks of annual leave that I will have remaining. Is that alright?"

"Hmm? Well, yes, of course, if you've agreed it all with HR." I don't want him noticing I'm upset, so I retreat into managerial formality. "I may need to ask you to help ensure that both Janice and Tanwen are fully conversant with all the procedures, particularly those relating to the end of the tax year, and can you make sure they know who to contact at the StaffPay software company for support, and... well, I'm sure there'll be other things we'll need to pick your brain for before the end of January." I look at him and notice that he is unexpectedly nervous. "Are you okay about retiring? You've been with the company for a long time."

"I can't say that I won't find it hard, and I think the wife is worried that I'll be under her feet all day," he smiles, "but there's the garden and the doc says I should take more exercise... and give up smoking of course."

"Well, perhaps without the stresses of work that'll be easier," I reply, trying to be both sympathetic and encouraging, "after all, you want to be healthy to enjoy your retirement."

"You're right, of course, and that's what her indoors keeps telling me."

"So why not do something?" I ask, irritated in part by his put-upon demeanour but also by his habit of referring to his wife, whose name I know is Julie, as if she is a household object. "There are patches and nicotine gum and those e-cigarette things — lots of help if you want to give up." My impatience obviously registers as Malcolm's expression hardens and he stands.

"I had best get to work," he says, "I just wanted to do the right thing and keep you informed."

"Thank you, Malcolm. You know, people — Julie and your doctor — only have your best interests at heart," I add, trying not to end out talk on a sour note. He nods and heads to his desk.

I open and read through Malcolm's letter, but it says no more than he told me. I open my email on the PC, and in the team's calendar, add his official retirement date and the preceding two weeks of annual leave. If this has all been agreed with HR, then there's no reason why it needs to be a secret.

There is a sudden laugh: it's Jan as she approaches the main office door. The counterpoint is the soft, Welsh accent of Tanwen. They had admitted in the text they sent me yesterday that they'd slept together, but I assumed from the comments about the kids finding it a challenge and their need to work at their new relationship, that they would be taking things slowly. The fact that they are arriving together is a little surprising as it suggests that Jan has already moved in with them. Arriving at the same time also means that Jan is a little late and Tanwen early, and I wonder if this is going to be the way it goes from now on.

I stand and take a deep breath to brace myself. Putting on a happy face, I pick up my empty mug and make my way out as if I just happen to be going to make myself a coffee.

"Hi, Tina," Jan says cheerfully as I emerge from my office. She radiates happiness in a way that I've rarely — if ever — seen from her. And not just her but from Tanwen too.

"Oh, morning, Janice, Tanwen," I reply and glance at Malcolm. Okay, so they've told me that they are lovers but even without Jan's text, it would be pretty bloody obvious that things have changed. When their eyes meet, there is a new spark of love and affection.

"You two seem very cheerful this morning," Malcolm says, and I wonder what the two of them are going to say in reply.

"Well, we both had a good weekend, so we did," Tanwen replies, "but Jani needs to get down to work because she's late," she adds, smiling. "I'll make you a tea, Jani. Do you want a drink, Malcolm? Tina?" It's more evidence of the new closeness between them but the offer of tea seems to distract Malcolm.

"Oh, yes please; very kind of you, thank you," he says.

"I was just going to make one myself," I tell her. Somehow, talking to Tanwen first seems easier; if I speak to Jan right now, I do not trust myself not to cry. It will get easier, I'm sure it will, and tears will only undermine the sacrifice I made when I walked away on Friday night.

"Thank you for the text," I say to Tanwen as she fills the kettle. "I'm glad you and Jan, you know, sorted things out."

"Tina, cariad, Jani and I can't begin to thank you enough for what you did, so we can't. I know that you and she were... close, so... Well, you are amazing, you are. Thank you."

I should say 'You're welcome,' or 'I'm glad I helped,' but just at the moment, it hurts too much. "So, are you and Jan living together now?" I ask instead.

"Oh no. The children, Jake especially, still need to get used to the idea of Jani and me being, you know, a couple. Jani came over to me this morning and we took Tilly to the nursery, so we did. We know we can't do that every day, with Jani being in late." I might suggest that Jan could probably adjust her working hours if she really wanted, but I don't.

"Even Malcolm would notice that," I point out. "Are you going to tell him that you've become lovers?" It's a deliberately provocative way of putting it and makes Tanwen blush.

"I'm not sure whether Jani and I are having sex is any of his business," she replies quietly, her answer surprising me by its directness. "I suspect we'll have to tell him that we're more than just friends before too long; Jani says that he was always intrigued by your relationship with the girl who worked here before me." I can feel my face fall and the stinging prickle of imminent tears at the reminder of Jojo. Tanwen places a hand on my arm, "Tina, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to upset you. All I meant was that the possibility of two women being in love evidently seems to interest Malcolm. Even so, Janice and I don't want to be walking on eggshells, always pretending when we're in the office, so even if we don't arrive together, Malcolm is bound to notice sooner or later, so he is." I nod. Knowing Tanwen, I doubt she was trying to upset me, but even if she were, I probably deserve it for being provocative.

The kettle starts to boil and it's a welcome distraction, as I don't know what to say. With the drinks made, I pick up my mug and Malcolm's. "Well, back to work, I suppose," is all I can manage.

Sunday 8 November

It's Sunday afternoon, which if you are on your own, can be about the most boring and depressing time of the week. I need to do something — anything! — rather than just sit here because when I do, I find myself wondering about Jan and Tanwen and what they're doing. Probably something with their kids, I expect, and with Jan loving every second, no doubt.

That's enough: I'm going for a walk in the park. Maybe the fresh air and exercise will lift my mood. Right, where are my boots?

They're not on the shoe rack, so where are they? I start rummaging in the cupboard in the hall, but I can only find one boot. Where has the other one got to? I start moving some of the boxes that are stacked at the back. These have been here since I moved in, untouched mostly, except for those rare occasions when I need to get to the electrical fuse box. "Shit!" I curse as a box topples from the top of the carelessly stacked pile I've constructed, its contents spilling out. I start to gather up the bit and pieces — papers, a couple of old school books and a few old pictures: stuff from my childhood and teens, before Mum and then Dad died.

There is a picture of me with Mum and Dad and my big sister, Philippa. I try to work out when it must have been taken; I'm in school uniform whilst she is in jeans and a sweatshirt, so I guess she was at college. Hmm, that would have been when Pippa was seventeen or so, and I was fourteen. About nine years before Mum's death, ten-and-a-half before Dad died... and then, a month after that, Dad's funeral — the time when Pippa and I finally stopped fighting by the simple expedient of never talking to each other again.

There is the usual twinge of guilt that I always get on the rare occasions when I think of Pippa. Should I try to make amends and patch things up? I'd sent a Christmas card a couple of years ago, but she'd ignored it and I heard nothing back. Perhaps she'd moved and never received it... In either case, is there any point in trying again?

Pippa had been unhappy when I came out as gay — not as unhappy as Mum or Dad, true, but she really didn't like it —I thought at the time that she'd accept it, but I was wrong and she hadn't.

Mum died thirteen years ago when I was twenty-three, not long out of university and working hard in my first job. I was also in an intense relationship with a woman — Angela Farrell — and though I'd had girlfriends and female lovers before, we'd moved in together so this felt like my first real, serious relationship. She was beautiful, exciting and very sexy. She was also demanding and not a little manipulative, although I had yet to realize that and I was infatuated, blown away by love and sapphic passion.

It was bowel cancer that took Mum — four short months after the unexpected diagnosis. Dad followed just sixteen months later of, well, of not having Mum anymore, I suppose. He just seemed to waste away. I'd tried to be there for him, despite the demands of work and Angela. However, Pippa had made it clear that she thought I should have given more time to Dad, partly by working less but mostly that I should 'stop playing at being a disgusting dyke and ditch the lesbo girlfriend,' as she'd so subtly put it. Like I said: she wasn't happy about my sexuality.

Perhaps I could have done more — although Dad was never especially pleased to see me when we met. However, Pippa could and should have done more for him. Okay, she was a single mum with a very young daughter, but she didn't work. She just seemed to drift in and out of relationships, relying on benefits and the largesse of her boyfriend de jour.