Walking with Sam

She had eaten a healthy amount of a plain old fish and chips that had arrived garnished and decorated as if it were coming out of some five star kitchen on TV.

I'd mulled the cheaper options on the menu; she'd quickly worked out what I was doing and told me quite tartly that she'd be disappointed in me if I didn't order what I really wanted.

She desperately wanted to spoil me.

So I let her.

And now I sat, nursing my cider and trying to do justice to my meal.

And watching her.

She held her wineglass elegantly. She did everything elegantly.

And she watched me right back, eyes rich dark pools of night in the dim and hopelessly romantic lighting.

"Tell me about you," she said.

I took a delaying sip of my cider and then squinted at her.

"What do you want to know?"

"Well... we know a lot about one another's daily selves. So I want to know more about what's hidden behind the mask and camouflage. The little secrets that make you... you."

"Are you absolutely sure you want to shatter my mystique?" I said, straying briefly into flirtation.

"Yes," she confessed. "I... want to know you. All of you."

I glanced down.

"I'm pretty easy to know," I sighed. "There's not much to the story. A silly girl from a silly little village who always dreamed of the bright lights and being on stage but somehow never quite took the necessary steps to get there. Probably better this way, all things considered..."

"So is that how you ended up going into accounting and stats then?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. It was necessity, really. Mum made sure I always had a backup plan in mind in case... in case my dreams petered out. I've always been alright at figures and spreadsheets etcetera which is why I'm still at the builder's yard I guess - I'm useful and don't make mistakes. It's decent hours and the work's not hard. It would be nice to be able to get some additional qualifications and maybe sit some exams and eventually move to management somewhere. I'd... buy a flat. Actually have a home of my own..."

"So long as you keep that hair."

I grinned at her. "Oh, the pink is staying no matter what. They'll bury me like this."

"Good," she breathed. "So... where are your family? Where are you from?"

"We're all from around here. My sister's a nursery assistant; she wants to move into proper teaching when she can. Mum works for the council and dad was a tiler but his back's gone so now he consults a bit for the local building firms. Gives him time to fish which is what he loves."

"It's a good part of the world for it."

"Yeah. And you, Sam?"

She shrugged.

"I'm from Hampshire. I'm also a small town girl under the veneer."

"You don't sound like a small town girl from Hampshire," I said, smiling.

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know. You can blame private schooling for that. It... rubbed off."

"Ooh, you're posh."

"I am not!" she exclaimed, flushing.

"You sure look posh," I retorted with a wide grin; she made a face.

"Yes... well... posh by having posh rubbed on me, whether I would or not, I suppose."

"Where did you go to Uni?"

"Swansea, the first time."

"Studying..."

"Biomedical sciences," she said softly, after a pause.

"Posh and smart," I murmured.

She shifted on her chair and sipped her wine.

"Sam?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

She sighed.

"I was stupid. I met Mark on a night out, fell head over heels for him. He was in town for a cousin's birthday. He was good looking, polite, athletic... we hit it off and had a whirlwind romance, the whole toot. We got married very quickly; I was pregnant with Beth by the next spring. And that was it for my aspirations. I was young, and in love, and thought that was enough for me."

"And now?"

"I live in a large house that isn't a home, married to a man who last had sex with me more than two years ago, and only then because I physically got down on my knees and begged him to."

"Oh my God," I whispered, shocked to my core by her bitter and brutal words.

"So yeah. It's worked out well for me," she muttered. "Beth is the only good thing to come from it, and even with her it's... complicated."

I reached out, took her hand. She clutched it.

I felt the tremor that ran through her.

"So... so getting to spend time away from it, with you, is... is kind of the best thing I have in my life right now," she whispered. "You're my escape from... all of it."

"Oh, Sam..." I breathed, wishing there were something helpful or comforting that I could say.

But I knew there wasn't any cure for this sort of pain.

She brushed at her eyes. "Didn't mean to make this about me. Sorry. Anyway... that's me. The not very much of me that I am."

"But... Sam., you're so much more than that. And you finished your degree, didn't you?"

"Eventually. But... I was never able to make a career work. Mark's never around; I had to do everything for Beth when she was young. Money's not a problem, at least - his parents are extremely wealthy and Mark earns a ton and a half. But... these days I feel like an employee. Not a wife. Or a mum, even. Beth's in boarding school now, see? She needed the structure and the exposure to other children. She's only home some weekends and even during holidays I try to make sure she's in camps so she doesn't... regress. So it's just me in a big, empty house. Getting slowly older as I watch the seasons turn."

She sighted once more, then picked up her wine and took a long slow draught of it.

"So, enough moping. Tell me - are you seeing anyone?" she asked, when she could.

"No. Pickings are kind of thin on the ground around here."

I started to sip my own drink.

"Oh. No lovely, sweet and available girls..."

I coughed as I got a bit of cider up my nose.

"... around who meet your no-doubt sky-high criteria?"

She radiated innocence as I wiped my lips dry with my napkin.

Of course she'd worked me out. I should have known she would.

"How did you guess?" I muttered. I coughed again to clear my throat. "About me? I never... mentioned that. I was... very careful."

"I... just knew, somehow," she said, shrugging. "I know it's a horrible generalisation and I should be strung up for saying it... but... you're far too interesting and fun and different to be anything as boring or prosaic as purely straight. So I guessed at first that you were... flexible, but the longer I knew you the more I realised you only ever looked at girls. Mostly at very specific, very pretty girls."

"I'll pretend to be offended for a bit, if you like."

"No. I like... I like how honest you are about who you are. I wish I could do the same."

"What do you mean?"

She frowned down at her wine.

"My marriage is over. I go through the motions. I wish he'd just man up and divorce me," she added, bitterly. "I'm inconvenient these days. I really am just... a housekeeper. A caretaker for his furniture and his clothes and his toys. He could pay someone to do that. He could pay me off, put me out to pasture in a cottage somewhere; and actually bring whoever he's dallying with on the side home with him instead of having to make up his frankly boring stories. If I had anywhere to go I'd do that to... to make things easier for both of us. I'm not angry at him, see. Just... tired. Tired of this dreary day-to-day where nothing changes and nothing ever will."

"Oh, Sam. Do... do you think that's what it is? Do you think he's... unfaithful?"

"I know he is. I found the messages. And the photos. Lots and lots of photos. And some rather... educational videos. There are multiple other women. Over many years."

"Oh. God, the absolute rotter..."

"It's okay. I can't really blame him; I know I'm not his type any more. If I ever really was."

I stared at her.

"How can you possibly not be everybody on Earth's type?" I said, before I could properly engage my brain.

"What?"

I bit my tongue.

"That was... a stupid thing to say. And it came out all wrong. Sorry..."

"What did you mean to say, then?"

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she watched me with those dark, haunting eyes.

I shrugged, helpless.

"You're beautiful," I sighed. "Not just pretty. Really, honestly beautiful. You're young, you're beautiful, you're incredibly hot, you're classy, you're smart, you walk like you invented it and, frankly, your smile is amazing. I wish I looked half as good as you do. I wish I could be half as... as delicious as you are."

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Thank you," she said with a strange note in her voice. "Coming from you... wow, Willa. Wow. That's... wow. Thank you."

I took a breath; sighed it out; I was relieved that she didn't seem to have taken offence - some girls got awfully weird or angry when a gay girl called them pretty...

"Willa?" she said, hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Listen. I know it's a bit... overt of me, and you've probably got a massively busy Sunday lined up, but... I've got a spare room and I'm really, really lonely at home. Would... would you maybe..."

"What is it, Sam?"

"I want to get drunk," she confessed. "I want to get completely out of this world drunk with you, at home, where I don't have to worry about how I'm going to get back home or who's likely to see me when I'm off my tits. Will you come spend the night at mine? We can raid Mark's cellar."

"That sounds like a really bad idea. I'm so in."

She stared at me. Then she grinned. "I love you, you know," she said.

My heart turned over in my chest; I reminded myself that those words meant other things to other people.

"Yeah, well, what can I say, just remember that I warned you about me and being shmangled," I said, desperate to camouflage my immediate and stupid response.

"Okay. You sure you don't want dessert?"

"No. I'm grand, thanks..."

She stood.

"Right. In that case I'm going to go settle our bill."

"Can I please just..."

"No," she said, severely. "This is on me. My treat, Willa. My pub, my rules."

She stepped off, and I couldn't help but stare at that gorgeous bum as she accosted our waiter and settled up. When she turned back to me I had to work really hard to act all light and airy.

Because I wanted her so much that my chest physically ached.

We were both quiet as we climbed into the car.

But a few minutes into the drive she reached out for my hand and put it back on her thigh.

I swallowed hard and tried not to read anything into it.

And once more I tried to keep it mostly where it was...

Mostly.

.:.

"Come in," she said. "And... please, I apologise in advance. It's..."

"... gorgeous," I breathed, staring around with wide eyes, still recovering from the the view of the outside of the massive glass and wood-clad edifice that stood in a county's worth of parkland.

She sighed.

"Yeah. And that's why I feel like a caretaker a lot of the time. Anyway. Can't do anything about it. Kick off your heels next to mine. Here.... let me help you out of that jacket."

"Thanks..."

"God, you always make tartan look so incredible, Willa. That skirt goes so well with everything else. It's so very... you. I love it."

"I'm a war crime disguised as a fashion crime. I love watching well-dressed people cringe."

"You're evil," she laughed. "It's so nice and refreshing."

I smiled.

"So where to now? Do you have a map?"

She snorted. "It's not that big. The kitchen and downstairs entertainment area are this way. Entertainment area. Hah! Like we ever use it for that."

"I'll be entertained there on your behalf, then, and at least you'll have done so once."

"Mm. That's true. Do you drink wine at all, Willa?"

"Yeah - but infrequently. It's a bit too pricey to hit too often. I do like a nice glass of good red... that is, when I can get it."

"Brilliant. A nice glass of red coming right up for you, then."

She walked to a section of panelling and pressed it; it clicked and swung open slightly. Sam pulled the door all the way ajar; I craned my head around the corner and gaped.

"Wow," I breathed.

"Yes, I know," she said. "It's obscene, isn't it."

"I've never seen an entire room that was built simply to hold bottles before..."

"Oh, it's far worse than that. There is a cork floor and wall lining and the racks have individual temperature controls... he takes better care of his bottles than he ever has of me..."

I touched the small of her back in sympathy. She shivered, then gave me a brief backwards glance over her shoulder. "Mm. So. How about we deprive him of one of his better vintages."

She stepped into the concealed area and pulled out a dark green bottle from its cradle in the wall-to-ceiling racks, then shooed me back out with a gentle nudge of her hip. She found two lovely lead-crystal glasses and poured us both a generous measure. She handed me mine and towed me by my hand through to a large, carpeted, double-volumed, glass-walled area dotted with minimalist lamps, abstract art and fashionably-distressed leather sofas.

She pushed me down into one and slid in beside me.

I was intensely conscious of the shape of her under the jeans and tee shirt, especially when she leaned back into the backrest and the fabric of her top rode up tightly over her, removing any remaining mystery about the shape of her breasts and her bra while showing an inch or more of her bare, pale, beautiful midriff.

The sequin heart on her shirt glittered under the muted light, I caught myself staring and looked swiftly away.

"Thank you for coming home with me," she groaned as she finished her stretch. "Thank you for being such a decent person and such a wonderful friend. I was so alone."

"So was I," I answered. "I've never had a friend like you. I've got mates, but nobody I feel... as safe... talking to like I do with you. About the things I... need to talk about. Thank you."

"We're a match made in heaven", she whispered.

I glanced down at my lap.

Oh, if only that were actually true, I thought sadly to myself.

She didn't seem to notice my discomfort - she sipped her wine, then set it aside on a smokey glass sideboard.

"Willa... can I ask you a... personal question?"

"Of course."

"It's... quite an intimate one."

"So go ahead. I've got very few secrets. And I don't think I have any from you any more."

She flushed, fiddled with her fingers a bit.

"Um... what do you look for?"

"In... what?" I said.

"In... women. In a girl. What... what makes you... interested?"

"Oh. Right. Um... are we talking long term? Or... just first impression oh-shes-nice stuff?"

"Um... lets go with first impressions."

"Her bum," I answered immediately. "Totally the wow factor of her bum. And the shape of her legs and whether she's pretty and whatnot. Boobs are nice, and I love them... but for me it all starts with the booty. I'm really very shallow and extremely easy to please."

"The booty, is it?" she said, amused.

"Oh, totally," I laughed. "I'm... I'm an unapologetic letch. Always have been. Thank God there's plenty of naked girls to look at on the Internet."

"And... guys?"

"What about them?"

"Have you ever..."

"Oh. Mm. I won't say I've never looked or... sampled... but... meh. Girls is it for me, I reckon. Penises are... awkward. I've... um... well..."

"Well... what?" she breathed, entranced.

"Um... I've sucked one or two in my time. With moderate success, I suppose; their owners didn't seem to have objections either before or afterwards..."

"Hah," she whispered as she shifted slightly. "Just... um... blow-jobs? Nothing else?"

"No. I've never let a guy into me. The few boys I did end up fooling around with always wanted it though; I got very tired of saying no. So I just... stopped. I stuck to girls and got myself hurt in... other ways."

She made a face and sipped her wine.

"How did you work it out?" she asked. "Who you were, I mean? Your... ugh, preference is such a loaded word. Who you like, I mean?"

"Oh," I breathed. "Now that... that's a long story."

"Tell me?" she begged, leaning forward and staring at me with those eyes that I was powerless to say no to.

"I was at an all-girls school," I said, after a while. "And I was... I am... an emotive and emotional creature. I crave affection. I form attachments easily, and I had a lot of really close friends back then. I guess it just felt... natural... to fall in love with other girls. Not that I did at school, mind you. Not openly at least, and even when I did I never told anyone at all, ever. I was so very, very careful about how much I admitted back then - even to myself. There were just too many horror stories online about girls who came out and... got hurt. So I... camouflaged myself."

"And University?"

"Uni was different in many respects, but then I always seemed to gravitate towards the libertines. To the... flexible ones, the experimentalists. So it was never about not being accepted... but I was never important enough to anyone to be exclusive. I'm... I'm not loose, see. I never was. When I'm with someone I have eyes and thoughts only for them. And it takes a lot for me to get to that point. And far, far more to move on from it. Some people... used that. I got good at spotting players, but I learned the hard way that... not everyone is sincere. Some people just want a... a fresh pair of tits and... someone wet for the night. Some people will do and say absolutely anything for that..." I finished in a whisper.

And then I realised how close I'd come to crying.

"Shit," I breathed. I took a shaky breath.

Some graves were better left undisturbed.

She made a soft sympathetic sound and reached out to touch my knee.

"It sounds like you had a hard time of it," she said. "You went... very dark there, just for a bit. I've never seen... that... before."

"Yeah," I whispered. I wiped my eyes and grinned through the lump in my throat. "I've had more than my share of heartbreaks. Don't you fear. I've also been lied to, cheated on, used, ignored, walked over... the usual. I just... somehow mostly stopped letting it hurt me, in the end. I probably got a lot less sex than I could have as a result, but..."

I shrugged, smiled wryly.

"I'm still here and I feel okay about myself so I guess it all worked out."

"I envy you. You discovered who you were."

"You've discovered who you are too."

"Not in any way that I can change," she sighed. "There's lots I'd have done differently."

"Mm."

She pulled her lovely legs up and in against her.

"For starters, I should have fucked more men," she said.

I shivered at the way she said the word.

It sounded so uncouth coming from her mouth, so wrong.

I suddenly realised that I'd never heard her swear before.

She did it so well.

It was so profane.

It was so very, very hot.

"At Uni?" I flailed.

"Yeah. I should have just gone all out and fucked as many men as I could. I should have just spread my legs and let them fuck me silly and got it all out my system, and then I could have moved on to being... something."

"Should have shagged some girls too, for good measure," I said, teasing her to cover my shock.

"Mm. Yeah. Maybe I should have at that," she answered, softly.

I stared at her, finding her lack of reaction to the idea... intensely distracting.

"It certainly would have been a good learning experience," she added. "Mark's my only. I had no complaints... at first, anyway, and he does have a nice enough cock, as far as I can tell. I always enjoyed it. Sucking him, letting him have me however and wherever. Even... bum stuff," she confessed, flushing pink. "And... I'd usually have an orgasm. Sometimes more than one. Until Beth, anyway. He didn't like my body when I was pregnant, and clearly found somewhere else to put himself thereafter. He'd throw me a bone occasionally... when he was feeling charitable."