Walking with Sam

I had the piano instrumental version of "You're where you belong" from Top Gun Maverick running over and over in my head while I was writing this.

-:- Walking with Sam -:-

There really was something quite lovely about the woman's legs and bum, clad as they were in the walking trousers she'd pulled on that morning.

I stared appreciatively at her as I meandered closer, enjoying the very many ways in which she did it for me.

The way her muscles moved under the thin fabric, the way the form of her sublime thighs changed as she turned, moved, shifted.

The way the seat of her trousers almost seemed to cup her small, fantastic cheeks like I wished my hands could - even if only for a breath or two.

The way her slender hips swayed subtly from side to side as she stepped, moved, spun...

The wonderful way she kept her knees almost-but-not-quite-together as she crouched to pick up the tennis ball her dog had just brought back to her...

But the best bit, I thought, was that the woman in question probably had no idea just how delicious she was.

I wondered what her morning routine was...

She'd stand in front of her mirror after her shower - not nude, not this nymph, oh no - she'd be in something gentle and soft, like... like grey cotton briefs, I suddenly thought. Grey cotton briefs that rode up constantly and infuriatingly over those glorious thighs; she was forever having to adjust them, pull them free from where they kept insistently creeping...

Yes.

Definitely.

I paused, thoroughly enjoying the mental image and the warmth it aroused in my tummy.

Grey cotton briefs and a soft fabric bra... black. A black bra. Or perhaps navy. Or... lilac. Lilac and tight and snug over those small but shapely breasts...

And then she'd look at the various choices for the day and press her exquisite lips tightly together and, eventually, choose these stonewashed grey trousers.

They would be her walking pants, her comfortable pants, the ones she wore because she was going out into the fields with her dog.

And she likely had no idea how hot she was in them.

She was perfect in them.

She was perfect.

What a woman.

I tucked the errant pink strands of my misbehaving fringe back out of my eyes and admired her some more.

I'd seen her around quite a bit as Autumn drew on.

She seemed to come to the park twice or more a week between the morning hours of six and seven - prime rambling time and smack-bang in the middle of when I'd be walking in to work.

Her copper-brown hair was always only just restrained under her sometimes-fluffy hat, and the voice with which she chatted to her bonkers Spaniel was wonderfully smooth - not shrill, or intruding, or grating like so many other voices could be. Just... mellow like aged wood in a sunny room, late in the afternoon, when you'd finally pulled off your shoes and were stretching your toes and having a nice tall glass of something cool and boozy.

Precisely that kind of voice.

And I shivered once, a little tremor of need.

I watched her as I approached her and her dog. She'd bent over again to tickle the Spaniel's ears.

Lucky dog, I thought, sighing jealously.

The fabric of her trousers was pulled drum-tight over her curved and shapely form, and the thin walking jacket flattered her only-ever-so-slightly-padded waist.

I gave her a smile, one girl to another, as she glanced up inquisitively at me when I was about to pass her by. Her cheeks were pink in the morning chill and the brief, freckle-dappled grin she blessed me with was just the most exquisite thing.

I lifted my chin, snuck one more wistful glance back at her - she caught me looking, and stood, and watched me, still smiling, probably amused by my pink hair and short tartan skirt and tights and fluffy-rabbit-bag and lace-up boots...

Flushing, I looked away and increased my pace.

"Come on, Flora," I heard her say. "Enough dilly-dallying. Lets go play with the ball. Yes? You'd like that? The ball?"

The Spaniel began to yap; clearly the answer was a resounding yes.

I rolled the tightness out of my shoulders and shifted my bag so that it would stop pinching me.

I still had half a mile to walk to work, but I didn't have to rush.

It was a lovely morning. Cool and quiet, my favourite kind.

So I ambled, and as I ambled I spent a lot of my remaining time thinking about her.

As I almost always did, these days.

.:.

She'd skipped the fluffy hat this time and gone for ear warmers and a hairband - her long copper locks fell in gentle falls and had been expertly trimmed to come to a lovely point that was no doubt within a precise hand's breadth of the small of her back.

Her Spaniel was being crackers as only Spaniels could be - running around all flappity-eared, barking, rolling in everything, menacing the magpies that were screaming insults and menacing it right back.

She smiled at me as I passed her, gave me a quite lovely little trilling "Hello," to which I squeaked a silly, shy "Hi," in return.

And fool that I was, I snuck a look back at her, and she caught me again and smiled and waved an artless little goodbye to me.

God, she was adorable.

Faint freckles on her cheeks, rich brown eyes, a small and neat nose, and a different shade of the same type of trousers - deep wine red this time. Deep wine red and tight as anything across that absolutely perfect bum; perfectly matched with the black polo-neck that peeked through her half-unzipped dark green jacket.

I approved.

I approved in the most approving way I could ever approve of anything, at all, in the entire history of everything, ever.

And even the fact that she was way, way, way out of my league didn't damp my approval one little bit.

Even her guaranteed heteronormative ways couldn't spoil things.

A girl could always dream...

I wondered who she was.

Probably a mum judging by the gold rings and time of day - few other women would be out getting quiet time this early in the morning with only the pooch in tow. She was likely hunting an hour's sanity before the madness of the school run to one of the local private schools. Or maybe she was lucky enough to have a hubby who actually helped out around home...

I sighed.

She was not even in the same postcode as my life, that was for sure.

Oh well.

I wondered what she thought of me. Whether she thought of me. Whether she wondered about me in the same way I wondered about her.

And then I laughed at myself.

Silly little Willa.

Of course she didn't. Her head would be full of school and events and socialising and her big house and...

Other things.

I grinned ruefully and increased my pace.

If I were quick I could maybe scrounge a doughnut from Cathy at the front desk.

It would be the second best thing about my day.

.:.

The drizzle had formed glittering gems on the grass; the trees were dripping apologetically on me as I drifted on under them, a tie-died fairy queen in her natural domain.

I snorted at myself and my silly conceits.

I was a rather bedraggled fairy queen today.

I wiped my face, wishing once again that I had a nice rain jacket.

Maybe next time the big Decathlon had a sale I could go have a look, if I could get the day off. In the meantime my dad's old coat would have to do. The dark blue wool at least shed some of the damp without growing cold.

I was looking forward to getting to the office. I'd be able to strip down and dry my face and hair, safe for the weather for a moment.

I loved both the mist and the rain, but after a point even a creature like me had to admit that a bit of sun would be nice...

The woman was sitting today - posed aesthetically on one of the memorial benches that lined the path.

Sitting by herself.

With her head and coat open to the drizzle and her hair plastered to her.

And no lead anywhere near her and no crackers Spaniel to be seen...

Oh.

Oh no.

Suddenly her pose made sense.

She was in pain.

I slowed as I neared her.

Now I could faintly hear the hopeless little sobs, see the way her shoulders shook...

My heart ached for her as she reached up and wiped at her eyes and nose.

Surely I could just check she was okay. Surely I would be permitted to do that...

So I swallowed my nerves and slowly closed with her.

"Hi there," I murmured as I reached her.

She jerked and turned partly away as she desperately tried to put her mask back on.

"Hello? Are you... okay?" I asked, as soft and gentle as I could possibly be.

"It's fine. I'm okay, thanks," she managed to fib, muffled by the hand with which she wiped her face.

She had the most amazing voice and the most perfect accent; the unhelpful part of me would have been perfectly content as a drooling mess on the damp ground in front of her despite her obvious distress.

I beat that wanton and vexing bit of my psyche back and away so I could focus on the here and now.

"Um... are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine..." she whispered.

"But... you're drenched. You're soaked through and it's cold this morning."

She paused, then sighed.

"I... suppose I am."

I stared at her, at the rigid way she held her shoulders and refused to look at me.

Bugger that.

She needed someone.

"I'm going to come and sit next to you because I'm a pushy person and I'm really bad at taking hints," I said, as I unanimously elected myself to be that someone.

She said nothing, just shifted ever so slightly as I sat down.

"I'm Willa," I said. "What's your name?"

"Sam," she reluctantly admitted, after a brief silence. She sniffed again.

"Hi Sam. I'm just going to sit here for a bit, alright? Just until I'm sure you're okay."

"It's... going to be a long... wait then," she managed in jagged little gasps; I could see she was desperately trying not to cry any more.

"Oh. I don't mind. And... listen, I know my hair is horribly intimidating but I promise I'm harmless.And here's the thing - I'm a top-notch listener. I can... listen to you? If you'd like?"

She made a small sound and shuddered once. Then she scrubbed furiously at her eyes.

"Sorry. I'm making an idiot of myself. I thought I'd be able to just be alone here and have a quiet little cry somewhere where it didn't matter..."

"Not much chance of that. Too many nosy people around," I said with a gentle smile. "Sam... why are you so sad? What's wrong?"

"Flora... my dog... she's at the vet."

"Oh. Oh no."

"I don't think she's coming home to me. I think this is it..."

"Oh no. Oh, I'm so sorry!"

"This... was my sanctuary," she gulped. "Coming here with Flora. Just having an hour or two in the morning where I could be me without having to wear a costume and pretend. Where there were no expectations of me other than that I was there to stroke her and love her and praise her and throw her ball."

"Pretend... what..."

"That I've got it together. That everything is... okay."

"What isn't okay?"

"Everything. Everything's a mess. My life is a badly-scripted pantomime. I hate most of it," she whispered.

She sounded so utterly miserable.

Time for some drastic action, then.

"Would you like a chocolate?"

"What?" she sniffed.

"A chocolate. I've got a bag of them for emergencies, like for example when I desperately need a chocolate. You can have one, if you'd like. It won't fix anything but it will taste nice. Got to take the positives in life, I find."

"That's... very kind of you."

I rummaged in my bag and dug out the plastic packet of bite-sized Twix bars. I tore one open and offered the bar to her.

She hesitated, then took it.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?" I said, as I opened one for myself so she wouldn't feel like she was on the spot.

"For... stopping. For being so... unexpected. So kind."

She sounded a tiny step short of breaking.

"You don't need to thank me for that," I gently answered her. "You needed somebody. I'm glad I could be here for you."

I ate my chocolate and stared out into the mist, listening to the little sounds of the world around us and the the slow drip of water from the trees, trying not to feel too deeply the little jagged breaths she took on the bench beside me as she fought to regain herself.

"This is a good place to come walking. And thinking," I murmured. "I always come this way on the way to work. It's a good place to be. It's calm. Sometimes the deer come through; I like watching them. See some rabbits here too, sometimes. Silly little things. It's a good space when you need to be able to let go of things..."

"I don't know if I'll come back."

"You should. Even if... Flora... doesn't come home to you, you've still got the memories. Memories are important. Look," I added, as I gently brushed droplets from the metal plate that was screwed to the bench - a woman's name with two dates and a brief but poignant message from her loved ones. "Memories make us who we are."

She made a soft, little girl noise, and I somehow found myself hesitantly taking her hand.

Hers clenched tightly on mine; I listened to her gulping as she tried not to cry any more.

We sat in silence for a moment. Then she sighed.

"I should go," she sniffed. "Got to go and get started with the day. Put the old mask on again. Be what I'm supposed to be. Ever the dutiful wife."

"Can I at least walk you to your car?"

"That's... sweet of you. But you'll be late..."

"Nah, I've got plenty of time. I usually just dawdle down by the pond, quacking at the ducks. Come on. Lets get you home so you can dry off."

So I helped her up and looked away while she dragged her sleeve over her eyes again and walked close beside her for the couple of hundred yards to the car park.

She unlocked an old silver Range Rover.

Then she spun to me and wrapped her arms around me and gave me a tight, fierce hug - tucking herself right in against me, cheek to mine, face buried in my damp and likely unwholesome hair.

For a precious little moment I felt like I'd entered a state of grace.

She let me go, stepped back, sniffed.

I let out the breath I'd been holding; her soft, wonderfully feminine scent had taken me off guard and my brain was still trying to recover.

"Thanks again for stopping," she mumbled as she scrubbed at her eyes again. "And listening."

She turned and clambered into her car, heedless of the water and mud she left streaked on the dark leather interior. She sat for a moment, then shook her head.

"You be gentle with yourself, yeah?" I managed, heart still hammering away like mad.

She glanced up at me and managed a bitter little smile.

"I'm here most days this time, rain or shine," I added. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

"I'll... see you, I guess," she said. "Maybe."

"Maybe see you later then," I said, as I managed a warm little answering smile just for her.

I closed her door for her and stepped back. The Range Rover coughed into life and rattled a bit. I watched her as she wiped her eyes once more.

The vehicle shuddered into reverse.

She gave me a little goodbye wave before she drove off.

I sighed, and stared up at the clouds above me.

What a gentle, precious, fragile creature she was.

And my good God, she'd felt so good against me.

I hoped she'd be okay.

I desperately hoped she'd come back.

I was almost ashamed of how desperately I wanted to be hugged by her again.

.:.

It was a week or more before I saw her again.

She was walking slowly, hands in her jacket pockets and head down.

I saw her before she saw me, taking note of the way she'd stop every so often and just stare downwards at her feet or off at the horizon.

I saw her wipe her face once.

She was mostly in black today - mourning clothes, I suddenly realised.

I felt a immediate lump in my throat as sympathy welled up in me.

I sped up to intercept her.

"Hey Sam," I gently greeted her as I got within talking distance.

She glanced up furtively, then seemed to relax as she recognised me.

"Hey... Willa."

"It's nice to see you here again," I said. "How are you?"

"Been better," she gulped. She sniffed, wiped her nose on the hem of her sleeve. "Sorry. Been blubbing like a girl again."

"You want to sit with me for a bit? I've got a thermos and some tea today."

"I'd... like that, I think."

"Come on then. The bench by the brambles is nice at the mo; we might see some birds."

I didn't link arms with her; I didn't know her nearly well enough yet and wouldn't presume anything. But I did wish I could. Despite the black clothes, despite the obvious sadness, she was such a beautiful woman. And as much sympathy as I felt for her I couldn't change the fact that she was absolutely my type.

But I sighed, and kept that thought strictly to myself.

Most days it was intensely lonely to be me.

So I behaved, and simply walked quietly beside her until we found a bench that she decided would do. She sat; I plonked my bum down next to her, straightened the pleats of my deep blue skirt out over my tights, and spent a few moments with my eyes closed, just breathing in the world around me.

Then I began to rummage in my bag.

"So," I confessed. "I've only got one cup. You can have it, and I'll use the thermos lid. Want some tea?"

"Oh. Thanks. That would... that would be nice," she said. She sighed, sat up a little straighter, and adjusted the scarf around her neck.

Some of her hair had fallen free and was hanging messily down her back; she didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she just didn't care.

"So, how are you?" I gently nudged her.

"Flora's gone," she said, voice cracking one the second word.

"I'd... guessed as much. I'm so sorry, Sam. She seemed like a nice little hound."

"She was so lovely. Such a sweetheart. I'd had her since she was a puppy. My daughter's shattered."

"Oh! You have a little girl?"

"Not so little any more. She's twelve. She's stayed home from school for the last few days because she's broken. Poor Beth. And things had been going so well..."

"I had you pegged as a mum."

She sighed.

"A young mum. Too young."

"Why?"

"I was nineteen. I barely knew who I was. I should have waited."

"You wouldn't have had your little girl then."

She sighed again.

"I know. I tell myself that a lot."

I eyed the rings on her hands and went fishing.

"What does your husband do?"

"He works."

It was strange how much venom could be compressed into two words - I eyed her and quietly dropped that line of conversation. Instead, I opened my thermos and put her cup between my knees to hold it.

"So this is your quiet time, is it?"

"Yes."

"Here you go," I said, offering her her tea.

She accepted the cup and clasped it in her hands, staring down at the steaming surface.

Then she shifted; I tried not to watch the distracting way she adjusted her lovely legs, knowing it would just be pointless torture.

Instead I stared out at the distant trees and sipped my own brew from the inconveniently-shaped lid.

She took a long breath, sighed it out as she squared her shoulders against the world.

"So..." she said.

"Mm?"

"What is it that you do that has you walking through the park every morning in rain or shine? I often see you here. You and your lovely brash style and bright colours," she said, finishing the last with a tiny, almost wistful smile.

I grinned. "I'm en route from home to work, mainly."

"I see. And what is work, Willa?"

"Oh, I'm one of the office admin at the local builder's yard. Nothing glamorous."

"Ah," she said.

"Hopefully not forever, though. I'm studying."

"Oh?"

She sat up, more engaged. "Studying what?"

"I did English and Drama at Uni, but now I'm mainly doing courses in Accounts and Statistics. It's at night, though, and remote - through an online college - so it's a bit of a squeeze. But I don't fancy being an admin girl my entire life. That's not the life I want and I'm not exactly the marrying-a-lad-and-settling-down type. So I need to augment my skills a bit to open some doors, see?"