Under Your Spell

Hannah nodded in their mutual agreement. Theirs had been a torrid relationship and one that could never last, but their friendship went deeper and every moment confirmed that to be true.

"You can't change the past, but you can't let it hold you back either. You learn from it, take the best bits, like the values that Mum drilled into us as kids - those were the things I had to hang on to, when my life was changing so fast. How I felt, how I thought, plus I was in a different town, away from home -- different world," Hannah sighed pensively.

"University does that," Paul nodded and handed her a mug. "Here we go, white-without?"

"Still builders tea, huh? This is perfect, thanks. I had to figure out who I was. Dealing with the course was the easy bit in comparison." Hannah cradled the mug in her hands.

"Plus, I have a cousin called Jane, so it would have made family gatherings confusing and I didn't want to throw her shapes. Hannah felt like me somehow. Mum liked it too."

"Oh blimey, your Mum. How is she now? I see her around the village, but I get the impression I'm off the Christmas list. By the way, thank you for your cards every year. I wanted to send one back but you never left an address. I get that though."

"I'm sorry, Paul," Hannah said reaching across a hand to rest on his. "Life was..."

Paul shook his head, with a quiet smile and his kind eyes.

"Never apologise Hannah. Look at what you've done with your life! Wow. I admire you so much -- you have such strength."

"Believe me, I felt pretty pathetic a lot of the time! " Hannah replied with a laugh.

"Nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Yet here you are! Just look at you. I always knew," Paul was still holding her out-stretched hand and brought it to his lips.

"Oh bullshit Paul. You're so funny. I always loved the romantic in you, bless you. Thank you Paul."

"For what?" he asked.

"For this. For not being angry or chasing me away. I wasn't sure how you'd react today after all this time. I treated you pretty badly by shutting the door on you that way. I'm sorry how things turned out between us," Hannah suddenly found herself crying and turned her head away to hide it by rummaging in her bag.

"I brought you this," she said, holding out a notebook with a sniff. "You see, I looked after it. I could never let this go."

By now, her attempt to hide her rising tears had failed. Seeing Paul and hearing his voice after all these years brought back a tide of lost emotions. It was the same sadness of finding a much-loved doll in a loft or reading a diary, written in one's younger unfamiliar hand with entries that had seemed so important once, their relevance meaningless to another's eyes.

Paul took the book and opened it, flicking through his poems and verses he'd written for that younger person. Some his own words, some borrowed, but all as a gift for him: then. For a change, he was lost for words. He too felt the rush of the returning wave, its strength undiminished after so many years.

Hannah threw herself on her knees in front of him and squeezed her fingers at the sleeves of his jacket, like a cat flexing its paws. In her head she shouted the words 'Kiss me, Paul' but her eyes spoke louder.

Paul reached to her head and pulled it close to his, hesitated for a split second then kissed her hard on her hungry mouth. Hannah, was half-crying, half-laughing but wrapped her arms tight around the back of his neck, trying to calm herself enough to kiss him back against the overwhelming rush of emotions inside her.

Did she whimper? Was that a sound that escaped her throat? Like a cat calling its kitten. She wasn't sure of that, but whispered his name in his ear, as they moved from that kiss to bury their faces into each other's shoulders. She wriggled herself to be closer to him, between his gatepost knees, open to her.

She ran her hands over the fabric of his shirt, still cat-like with little tugs of her fingers, feeling the shape and firmness underneath.

Paul's hands crossed and re-crossed the shapes of her back, how her waist now flared towards the swell of her bottom. Hannah was softer than he remembered and he remembered often. Her angles had become curves, and the breasts she'd long wished for, now pointed and brushed his stomach as they closely embraced.

As they kissed again, her senses rose in a crescendo, so that even the grass tickling her bare legs affected her. She felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, heard the sad cries of terns that dipped in the breeze. Yet closer, she became aware of the light fabric of her dress that drew over her nipples, her hands were full of the hard prickles of Paul's chin as she cupped his face. The warm, comforting scent of his skin enveloped her and the wet rasp of his tongue in her mouth urged 'more'. She began to melt a little as the heat rose inside her.

She remembered the night he once took her on the ground -- she was naked, curled like a shell raised to his body. She recalled the little acorn cups in her fingers in the dark of the trees, when the air was warm on her skin and he was inside her and the world was so distant. It had been so natural, that neither questioned the need they both shared and found in each other.

"I'm thinking of all those times we made love and how we were close like this," Paul spoke, his lips nuzzling her hair. "Not all those memories are good though Hannah and they trouble me. I'm not sure I treated you well. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't treat you as an equal -- I should have done that."

"Sssh," Hannah replied, pulling away to look him in the eyes and place her fingers to his mouth. "I don't regret. If there were things that happened that make you feel bad, there were a thousand more that should make you feel happy. Don't focus on the bad things, Paul -- I don't."

"How do you see us then? My memory plays tricks. I hope I made you happy, that I didn't mess with your head," Paul's eyes were down cast as he rolled patterns with his thumb over her arms.

"You did, Paul! You did make me happy. Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry if all these years you've held regrets, alone. I wish I'd come back sooner to set your mind at rest," as Hannah spoke she mirrored the movements of his hands with her own.

"We can't deny what happened," Hannah went on, feeling a need to clear her own thoughts. "Yes, I was young -- vulnerable even. But I've never felt you took advantage of me -- never once in the years in between. Besides, I've become quite woke and political since then. I know people who've been abused and the harm it did and how it stays with them. People are never free of those traumas -- you of all people should know that. But my memories are good -- sure lots of hot sex, maybe a touch of S&M but I always trusted you -- I still do.

"Oh Paul," Hannah sighed, drawing herself closer to bury herself in his arms. "You're a lovely man, Paul -- a good man."

They held each other gently in silence a little while, until Paul drew away to look into her face.

"Thank you," he said, his eyes looking back and forth between hers.

"You're crying. Oh sweetheart, don't be sad -- those are good tears. Here, let me kiss them away," Hannah cooed, her breath warm on his face, as she planted soft kisses to his cooler skin, so that he was wrapped in the honey sweet warmth of her closeness.

Her kisses changed from motherly dabs, to slower sensual ones -- her lips dragging softly out of shape against his skin, that she caught in the gentle grip of her lips.

Paul responded, feeling the hunger in the body, warm and lithe in his hands. He closed his eyes and felt each touch of her lips send a quiver into his soul.

Her lips were now on his, as she gripped and re-gripped his lips with hers, until any misgivings fell away from his mind and he let his mouth open to hers. Their lips made a slow dance of give and take, now leading, now mirroring each other's movements.

Hannah hadn't planned for this -- she didn't expect to find such feelings, but the desire she found rising in herself, the way her heart and soul now ached for this man, her man, the man she had left forgotten in the attic of her mind, was what she craved.

"So is your tent like a tardis? Would there be room for two in there? I don't want to presume but..," Hannah indicated the tent with a nod.

"Thought you've never ask," Paul smiled back, helping her to her feet as he stood himself. "There's plenty of room for two, but just give me a minute. I put the bait boxes in here and I don't want you to end up with maggots on you."

"You know how to charm a girl, Paul -- always the smooth talker," Hannah shook her head with a laugh as Paul dived headfirst into the awning, with just his feet and backside sticking out. Hannah couldn't resist and gave his ass a good slap.

"That was not totally unexpected I suppose," Paul responded from the tent and dragged himself awkwardly backwards with plastic crates in his hands.

"Are you feeding the five thousand with all that lot?" teased Hannah.

"Ice blocks," Paul puffed, and plonking himself down on the grass to pull his boots off.

"Sorry, there's not too much room in there, so I thought I'd take them off here. Boots and sex. Never good!"

He shuffled back into the tent and held up his arms to her. Hannah's sat herself down with her back to Paul and indicated for him to unclasp her dress and take down the zip. She could feel Paul's hand fumbling with the small hook.

"Hang on, I need my glasses. This is quite small. Sorry."

To save his trouble, Hannah reached back and deftly unhooked it herself, but let Paul hunt his glasses anyway.

"There here somewhere, unless I just put them outside. Could you check..."

Hannah interrupted "Paul? Paul. I did it myself. Since when did you start wearing glasses?"

"Only for close up work," Paul replied defensively.

"Aren't you going to work on me closely? Should I look for them out here anyway?" Hannah lay back and started to giggle, then couldn't stop giggling, bringing her up knees and putting her hands to her face.

"I've missed you. What are we like?" she finally smiled, her voice cooing with her passing laughter.

"You gotta make allowances for us older folk, Hannah," Paul played along, sounding defensive still. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, to which she lifted a lazy arm to curl her hand round his head.

Hannah wriggled herself to sit with her back to him still, her legs over the threshold of the tent. Paul leaned to follow her movement, taking a scoop of her brown hair to lay it round her neck. His warm lips touched the base of her neck, making her sigh in relief and contentment. Finally he found the zip to her dress and lowered it to the small of her back.

"Hurray!" called Hannah.

"Hallelujah!" echoed Paul. There wasn't room between dress and skin for his hand, but the triangle of naked back invited him to kiss lower.

"Paul?" Hannah asked, without moving as Paul continued his downward journey.

"Did I mention my SRS to you? I'm not sure it would have been appropriate in a Christmas card."

Paul stopped and sat back on his ankles.

"Is it infectious?" Paul asked, feigning puzzlement.

"I fucking hope not!" Hannah spluttered. "I mean my gender surgery. It's called SRS. God I'm sorry, did I never mention it to you?"

It was Paul's turn to chuckle and he placed his hands on her shoulders as she tried to turn to him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his face next to hers.

"You did, honey. Postcard from Bangkok. Photo of Koh San Road on the front, confession of becoming a prostitute on the back." Paul delivered the line flatly, and then turned his head to her to give her a quick peck on her cheek. "You would have made a fortune if you'd turned pro."

Hannah smiled and lifted her hand to stroke his face.

"But seriously, Paul. I've got an inny, not an outy now. Are you ok with that?"

"Hannah, darling, you don't get to my age, without having sex with a woman."

"Slut! How many times?" Hannah replied lying back and looking up into his smiling face.

"Each night or all together? Hannah - no, it doesn't matter. You know me better than that," he bent awkwardly down so Hannah rose to meet his kiss.

Paul pulled his shirt over his head then lay back and started to unbuckle his belt as Hannah rested herself back to watch him.

"Does it all work? Full deluxe mode? Orgasms?" Paul asked as he kicked off his jeans.

"Don't you intend to find out? You're the man -- that's your job," Hannah smiled quietly, admiring his taut frame once again. "Here, let me do that."

She crawled on hands and knees and straddled him, not letting her weight rest down. She bent her head to place one, then many kisses on his face while he lay passive to her attention. Only puckering his lips to kiss back when her lips touched his.

She bowed her head, letting her hair fall in a cascade on his skin. With her neck as its stem, she became a brush to paint his body. She placed a dab of a kiss on his skin, then washed it across her canvas, that formed the outline and form of a man in her gaze.

The brush drew further down, over the expanse of his fluffy chest, down past hairy-belly-button, to make bold kisses and strokes that sketched the outline of his sex, still clothed, not quite revealed or certain. She pulled the waistband to take a peek, to kiss the sour, salty tang of its tip. Her hair, a curtain to her performance -- a dance. She imagined a mime, a tongue busy without words spoken, only a gentle murmur or approval reached her ears from her audience.

She took his growing sex, ripe purple, in the silken wet softness of her mouth. It twitched and strained for release but her fingers held it hostage to her tongue and raking teeth.

The gap between her open thighs made her ache for his touch and a melting bead gilded her sex inside.

Hannah looked up into Paul's eyes. She saw the rolling notes of passion in his eyes, of sadness, of love, contentment, hunger. Adagio con fuoco - a symphony it seemed to her.

Paul kicked off his briefs and she reached under her dress to do the same. Her legs spread over his, the flair of her dress open like a flower around her. She rested her hands on his chest as she used to do and pressed her liquid sex to his, as she'd never been able to.

She measured the length of his sex with the push of her hips until the brush stroke was done and she drew down, wetness glistened unseen beneath her body. 'Again my love, until we are done'.

Paul's voice gently objected, in groans and gasps.

Hannah leaned forward, to kiss and comfort, their mouths sharing, their breath ragged in little gasps.

"Here, let me help you," Paul whispered as she sat up and brushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it rest round her waist.

"Do you want to take this off, love?" he asked.

Hannah's eyes were closed and she shook her head. She was catching this moment with her every sense. Her lips still wet with his saliva, her legs now sticky against his, the soft rap of the tent in the breeze, the heat of the sun on its canvas that made the air hang heavy.

"I don't want you to see because I don't want it to matter," her voice soft and calm.

She reached between her legs and took his sex in her hand. How hard it was, how thin its skin, how it commanded her attention. She would be slow, she would press down slowly, she must, until his eyes widened and her mouth hung open. Until with little strokes and patient force, their confidence grew, for he was fearful of hurting and she of failing.

"Don't be too slow, Paul. Don't wait for me," Hannah asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"But I want you to..." Paul began.

"No, no. I want you to come," she shook her head interrupting him. "It's a bit much, please come."

She slipped her hand between them again, keeping him in place, riding the tip of his shaft at its most sensitive. Paul took over their movement, hips rocking as his thrusts slipped through the grip of her fingers and into her.

She knew he was close and knew he had no choice but push harder as he gave himself up to the coiling animal that waited to spring. She felt him swell, his hands on her hips keeping tempo with the final crashes of his hips into hers. His familiar gasp of surprise.

He always sounded surprised when he came, as though it was new and fresh and unique 'I've never felt like this, what is happening, I have no words, my eyes black, my heart bursting'.

Paul was so alive when he came and time stopped for her too. There was nothing else but these slow-whirling fragments of stolen time.

They were both hot. He perspired, she simply glowed. That was how things were now. Their recovering breaths turned to happy smiles. They laughed for no good reason and every reason too.

"You came!" Hannah spoke triumphantly through sticky lips.

"I did," Paul replied, their eyes joined. "Now you're wet."

"But I'm on top!" Hannah countered smugly. "So when I do this..."

She raised her hips to release his slippery, spent sex.

"Now you're wet too. Eeeew. So much!" she squealed and they both groaned with laughter and mock horror.

"You made the mess. You get to mop up. Oh lord, can you reach my bag? I've got some tissues."

* * * *

"I felt empowered, keeping my dress on to fuck you," said Hannah as they sat with their legs pointing towards the lake and sharing a cup of tea.

"You've got lovely breasts by the way. I never got a chance to touch them," Paul, leant back on one arm to face towards her.

"I should say not! Can't have everyone mauling my tits on first meeting. They're shy and there's two, so they stick up for each other, like twins. Anyway I'm glad you like them. Men are funny though. Has any man ever said 'Great shag, but I'm not fond of your tits?'"

"Probably. Some asshole will have," Paul pointed out.

"So what now, Hannah? Forgive me, but did you hunt me down for a trophy shag. Fuck 'em and chuck 'em?" he asked.

"Don't say that Paul," Hannah was a little hurt and pulled her knees up to rest her chin on them. "I didn't come down here with a motive."

"That was thoughtless of me. I'm sorry," said Paul, rubbing the grass next to her as though he were trying to eradicate his mistake.

Hannah sighed and gazed away across the water. She watched a distant swan slapping its feet on the water, wings beating furiously at the air until it seemed to change its mind and bellied back into the surface. She knew that feeling.

"I'm glad I found you," she said turning to rest her head on its side to look at Paul. "You are still you and I am still me. After all these years."

"But you're not you," said Paul picking up her words. "You're a better version of yourself. I'm glad too -- that you found me. I'm glad to see who you've become."

They were silent for a minute, their time together drawing to an end.

"So you don't mind then - about the fuck?" Hannah spoke with a little smile at the corner of her mouth.

Paul pretended to give the question some thought.

"I can live with it."

* * * *

Acknowledgements

A big word of thanks to ElectricBlue66 whose encouragement and patient editorial assistance has been invaluable. If you are stuck what to read next, I recommend his works.

More instalments are on the way -- Hannah has more living to do!