Chapter 18 – A Lesbian Erotic Romance: Willas Dreamlike Moment

“Roll over,” I said, nudging her shoulder with my nose.

We dragged the thick down duvet over us.

She arranged the pillows and lay down on her left hand side facing the wall-to-ceiling windows and their partially-feathered blinds.

I wrapped myself around her and found a comfortable space for my hand below her breasts, and I tucked my knees in behind her thighs. Every bit of me was touching her, and she let out a shivery little breath as she settled in against me.

“You are so lovely against me like this,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

And I packed the brand new slice of newly baked sadness away and focussed on the tangible reality of this perfect, neglected creature in my arms.

She fell asleep in what felt like minutes; exhaustion and endorphins and my warm body ganged up and finished her off.

I, though, didn’t sleep much at all.

.:.

Sunday passed far too quickly – a long, run-on blur of orgasms and eroticism during which neither of us bothered to put on clothes because we knew we’d just be taking them off again. Sam did at several points don an apron as she cooked for us; I’d amuse myself by sitting, wrapped in a blanket, watching as her stunning little breasts peeked out from beneath the sturdy canvas.

She had a way of singing while she worked that was sublime, and she’d catch me watching with a silly little smile on my face, flush, and carry on.

We ran several enormous baths and demolished her bath salt collection.

And we spent much of our precious time together just holding one another, skin to skin. She’d doze beside me, and as she dozed I’d stare at her face, trying to etch her features into my memory forever.

Because I knew it was too good to last.

I was besotted. I was intoxicated with her. I could not bear to be more than a brief touch away.

And I knew from bitter personal experience that sometime, somehow, somewhere – something would tear her away from me.

She drove me home late on Sunday evening, and we kissed and hugged and touched and caressed one another for quite some time in the constricting and awkward confines of her car.

She blew me a kiss before she drove away, and I tottered upstairs on worn-out legs to the stares and grins of my two incredulous flatmates who I greeted perfunctorily before retreating to the musty sanctuary of my room.

I wept a small sea’s worth of tears that night – some from despair but most just catharsis. It had been a long time since I’d felt anything this intense for… anyone.

And I hadn’t been ready.

I hadn’t been at all ready to fall this hard for someone again.

.:.

All too soon, it was Monday morning.

I trudged in to work, dressed in an understated wardrobe that was mostly just the blacks, browns and greys that mirrored my mood.

I hadn’t felt bright enough to put on my usual colourful show.

I’d made peace with the worst of the shadows; I’d found some solace in the knowledge that I at least had her, even if it was something… hidden… for now.

Maybe that would change.

Maybe with enough time…

Then I sighed.

I stared down at my feet as I walked.

I wondered how long it would be before I saw her again.

I wondered if she’d… reconsider us in the cold light of day.

She had a wonderful life. She had a beautiful house, and by what she’d told me a lovely daughter. She’d never go hungry, never go cold, never lack for anything.

Except love, a small part of me pointed out.

I wondered if I would become a distracting little hobby, some secret little walled-off part of her life that brought excitement to the daily grey.

I hoped not.

My heart wouldn’t take it.

I sighed, sniffed, and slung my bag in under my desk.

I should have guarded myself better, I thought, rueful and bitter with myself and my constant and consistently poor choices over who I gave my heart to.

But it had been so very, very precious to be with her.

I just wasn’t sure it would be worth the price if she didn’t want me any more.

Work dragged.

I was tired and moody and down, and my co-workers immediately noticed the lack of sparkle in their day. Mary (the owner’s wife and unelected office mum) stopped by to give me a quick health check; I somehow managed a smile for her and assured her I was okay – just worn out after a busy weekend.

She remained entirely unconvinced, and reappeared not long after with cup of tea which she placed deliberately in front of me on my desk.

And the teas kept coming through the morning.

I was horribly embarrassed – I was usually so good at keeping my shields up. But today…

Today I couldn’t.

Today my mind was elsewhere.

Today my mind was obsessed with the absence of warm eyes and warm arms and the warmth of her body close to me.

And as a result I discovered just how much my workmates all cared for me – the bright and sparkly young girl who was suddenly and inexplicably a bedraggled bird of paradise amongst the wrens.

And as a result everybody wanted to come and check up on their “little sister”.

And it cheered me up a bit to realise that I was loved here.

But I still missed Sam with an almost physical pain in my heart.

I put my nose down and cracked on, thinking about little but finishing the day so that I could escape and go and mope somewhere more sheltered and private.

But sometime near lunchtime Mary came through and told me that I was needed at the Tradesmen’s desk because someone was asking for me by name.

She was grinning in a most unsettling way.

“For me?” I said, incredulous.

Nobody ever, ever looked for me. And at the Tradesmen’s desk? Nobody I knew would be there these days…

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