Chapter 8 – A Lesbian Erotic Romance: Willas Dreamlike Moment

“So… why are you at a loose end then? You didn’t answer the first bit of that question.”

“Mark’s at another company retreat. In St Andrews this time,” she said, matter-of-fact. “I’m never invited along to those; it stopped hurting long ago.”

“St Andrews… in Scotland?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. Talk about a long way away. And… Beth?”

“School trip to Dover and surrounds. So the house is… echoing. I needed company. I needed some you and me time.”

“I am totally and utterly okay with being your designated me-time provider.”

She smiled at me.

“I knew you would be. Right. Willa, don’t freak out, this bit of the road’s a bit… wonky… “

“Oh… oh fuck!”

“… but don’t worry, I know it well and the car’s more than capable…”

“Jesus Christ…” I screamed as we traversed a section of winter-wrecked road at speed.

I cowered back into the seat, panting, then started to laugh hysterically.

“You cow. You did that just to make me scream, didn’t you?” I accused her, still laughing.

She shot me a wicked grin.

“Guilty as charged. It looks worse than it is.”

“Next time warn me. You’re lucky I had a wee before I came outside.”

She cackled.

“Sorry… yeah, that section’s been there for a few months now. Sorry. Should have given you more warning; I like hitting it at that speed. It makes me grin. So, Willa…”

“Uh huh…”

“I feel kind of guilty because I didn’t even ask if you had other plans tonight. So I’m sorry if…”

“No!” I exclaimed. I reached out, grasped her leg, desperate that she not doubt my pleasure that I was there with her. “I didn’t. I was just going to be… decomposing on the couch. This. This is awesome. I love getting to spend time with you. No matter when or what or where.”

She hesitantly reached down with her left hand and clasped mine for a moment.

Her thigh was lovely and warm and firm under my fingers…

“Okay, then,” she said. “Consider yourself officially abducted.”

She made no move to remove my hand; and in fact she just seemed to sigh softly and settle slightly more into her seat.

So I did the same, rested my elbow on the large padded centre console, and left my hand right where it was.

Well…

Mostly.

.:.

She leaned back into the corner, watching me over the lip of her wineglass, once more as obscure as the Sybil. The sequin heart – placed as it was directly and very unfairly over her lovely little breasts – was monstrously distracting; I had to constantly remind myself to stop looking at it.

I picked self-consciously at my main, an absolutely divine piece of fillet that I was far too keyed-up to really enjoy like I should.

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.”


New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself

Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.


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