Walking with Her

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Walking With Her 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-soslightly-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?" "That's... great. It's good to have a goal. And to be working towards it. And definitely don't be a marrying-a-man type. At least, not yet. That was my downfall." She blew on the tea, took a sip, made a face but was clearly far too polite to complain. "Tell me how you like it and I'll bring you your own thermos next time," I said, smiling gently to show I didn't mean anything by it. "Oh! Oh, sorry, I didn't..." She flushed, shook her head. "It's really nice. Thank you. It's just... not how I usually drink it. Or what I usually drink." "Oh, you're a coffee lover?" "One of my many sins, alas." I snorted. "You don't strike me as the sinful type," I said. "That's very much my line of work. You're very much more the good conscience side of things, I reckon. The halo-and-harp are nice, I hear." Her lips curled up slightly but she didn't answer. She sipped her tea and glanced at me once, then away again. "So what do you do when your daughter is at school and your husband's at work?" She stared out into the distance. "Laundry. Cleaning. Reading if I've got the energy. Visiting the horse. Some gym. Walks. I... find ways to fill the time. But I prefer this - being outside. Away from... other people."

"So you're not working?" "Not for years now, no," she replied. "As I said... I was young. Too young. I changed courses after Beth was born and I finished a degree... but I never really went back. I tried, of course, but..." She shrugged. "Children are hard," I said. "I've seen the struggle. It... sometimes I'm not sure it's worth it, when I see how my mates have to scrape and scamper to make things work for them." "You're young. You should enjoy being young. Plenty of time to change your mind later." "You're still young," I said. I grinned at her. "You don't look like the mum to a twelve-year-old. If it weren't for you telling me I'd never have guessed." "That's... kind of you." "It's true though. Go on, then. How old are you, Sam?" "Thirty one," she said softly, after a brief hesitation. "See? Still young. I'm twenty six," I said, to keep things even. "You look... younger. " "I know. It's my superpower - I look like I just took off my training wheels. The hair helps." "It's certainly... striking." "That's charitable," I laughed. "I used to be blonde and boring, so one day I just decided to go as loud as possible. This was the easiest colour to reach on the shelf." "It takes a lot of self-confidence to be that bold," she said. She risked another small smile for me. "It... it really flatters your eyes and your cheeks. I... envy you." "Thanks," I said, happily. "Truthfully, though, I stopped caring what most other people think about me a long time ago. I had to. Can't be who I am if I'm constantly scared of upsetting anyone - lots of people love to be upset about everything. So, Sam, I have thirty minutes, give or take," I

said. "Until I have to put some legs on it and get to work. How do you feel about... walking?" "Walking would be nice," she said softly. "It's... been a while since I had anybody to do it with." "Well, now you've got someone again." She looked up at me, then flushed as she realised I meant it. "Thank you," she breathed. "You're such a sweet woman." "Nah, that's just the facade," I smirked. "I'm a holy terror when I'm shmangled." And she laughed too, brief and muted but there nonetheless. Then she stood, and offered me her long, lovely, slender hand to pull me to my feet. But what was very strange was, how after I'd packed and shouldered my bag once more, she took my hand again. And tangled her fingers with mine. And didn't seem at all inclined to... let go. I have no real memories of that first walk with her. Just brief impressions - the way she'd watch me while I was talking; the occasional smiles that broke through like sunlight through sea mist. I couldn't quite make peace with how good her hand felt in mine. I remember feeling like Queen of the World; walking along with her by my side; our gaits nearly perfectly matched and her only the slightest bit taller than me. I didn't fix her sadness, obviously. I couldn't. But I like to think I gave her a moment of peace in between the pain. And so we slowly looped around a segment of paths, and as my time drew to an end I walked with her back to her car. And once again she hugged me, and I marvelled at her scent and the way I could feel all of her against me. "Take care, you," I mumbled, as I let her go at last.

"See you soon, I hope," she said as she stared back at me. "I'll be here. I'm always here." "Okay," she said. She gave me one last brief glance, then turned and climbed into her Range Rover. And I thoroughly enjoyed the moment I got to spend watching her sublime bum. I stood waving until she'd driven away. .:. Mornings became our time. She began to come to the park more often - I'd now find her three or four times a week. She'd see me, and immediately stand up from our chosen rendezvous bench so she could walk to me. She'd step in close and hug me - brief but so, so welcome - and then take my hand. And I'd get to spend three quarters of an hour in heaven. Occasional crises at home would intervene and call her away and abridge our time together, but mostly I had her to myself. Soon enough we'd exchanged numbers, and we began a slow friendship-by-intervals. Or at least she did. I, on the other hand, developed the most savage crush on her. I worked really hard to suppress any sign of it while I was around her, but late at night in my single bed in my small and stuffy room, I'd lie there - hot and bothered, thinking about little but her. As time papered over the loss of Flora she slowly blossomed into a more expressive creature. And she seemed to love my hugs - something I was very happy about, because she always managed to leave me ever so slightly breathless when she finally let me go. And she'd be flushing a pretty shade of pink, and smiling.

(There was nothing quite so perfect as being hugged by someone who was exactly the right height to tuck their face in against me, cheek to my cheek, with the ever-so-enticing pressure of boob and tummy and firm thighs pushing so wonderfully against mine) But every single night I had to remind myself that she was normal and I was so far from baseline they'd probably had to invent entirely new categories for me. It didn't help, though. I was infatuated. I bought a second thermos, and gently coaxed her favourite manner of coffee making out of her. I found the necessaries (a second hand French press from a charity shop was the largest) and I began to arrive prepared. And she would too - a small purple backpack made an appearance; always slung over her left shoulder and always filled with various treasures for me. She'd sit and watch me eat them, with a tiny, wistful smile on her face. But she'd never tell me what she was thinking, no, not Sam. She'd just watch, inscrutable as the Madonna, and deftly change the subject. But then she hit a rough patch at home. Beth wasn't coping at school - some sort of focus problem that Sam wouldn't expand on had become more apparent or urgent. Sam was terrified that Beth would have to move schools again with all the attendant drama - I watched, growing more and more concerned as she lost what little weight she had to spare from the stress. She never said much about Mr Sam to me; he seemed to be this distant unavailable nebulous entity who was always at work or travelling for business or at this or that executives retreat. So Sam was effectively a single mum, and there were days when I would look into her dark-ringed, haunted eyes and fear for her. Little hints in her behaviour made me realise how loveless her life was beyond her difficult but obviously close relationship with her daughter. She had few friends - or at least few she'd talk to me about. She rode her horse when she was in the mood, which wasn't often, and would mention in passing books she'd completed that she'd liked. But she

never mentioned parties, or social events, or going out - even when I began to do so to see if I could draw her out a bit. Instead she'd just tell me little bits from her childhood or the minutiae of her day or her favourite memories of Flora. And I'd sit there and listen to her and try not to watch her too much, because I was scared that my fervour for her would show in my eyes. So I'd laugh and tease her and enjoy the small little gentle taunts she began to throw back at me once she was certain that I wasn't simply another flake who'd drift into her life for an hour, or a day, or a season... and then leave. When we were together she'd seldom let go of my hand. Sometimes she'd go quiet for a minute or two and just watch me. It was cute - in a weirdly pleasing but still unsettling way. The mornings grew lighter, the park more populous; Daffodils burst forth as Spring unfurled her glory. Sam was clearly exhausted, though; dark shadows clung to her. She wouldn't tell me much, just that her and Mr Sam were fighting more than normal. And that she was sleeping in another room and finding it hard to adjust to being alone. I hugged her extra-hard one Friday morning at our parting, with one arm low around her waist and the other clasped across her shoulders as if we were slow dancing. And she let out a quiet little "No, don't," and clung tenaciously to me when I first made to let go. For a few mad seconds I thought of calling in sick and just staying with her. But money was tight, and I needed the work. So I pressed my lips to her cheek and held her tight and almost, almost suppressed the desperate little sound of longing that I let out. She locked her arms around me and buried her face in my hair and almost seemed to hold her breath for a heartbeat or two. And I wished to heaven that I didn't need to say goodbye.

.:. My phone started to ring at about quarter to six. I snorted, jerking up from the couch I was sharing with Marius - the elegant and artistic half of the gay couple that I'd somehow become the unlikely third wheel for. I'd been dozing; it was Saturday night and I'd earned my nap. "Willa Jane, your phone's ringing," Marius said helpfully from his nest. "Thanks, Captain Obvious," I yawned. I stretched, glanced down at my lock screen and saw her portrait smiling up at me. I snatched up the handset and scuttled off to the kitchen. "Hey Sam," I said, a little bit breathless. I perched up on the counter as I usually did. "Hey Willa," she said. "Sorry for intruding like this..." "Of course you're not intruding! But Sam... not that it's not lovely to get a call from you... but... is everything okay?" "Oh. Oh, that's right, we usually just text don't we? Sorry. Getting forgetful in my old age." I laughed. "What's up?" "I'm... kind of at a loose end tonight and I... well, I wondered if you wanted to maybe grab a bite to eat. With me. I mean... obviously with me...God I'm a twit sometimes..." I blinked. "Um..." "My treat," she added quickly. "In case that tips the scales any..." "I am nowhere even remotely dressed and there are unanswered questions about whether I'm mentally ring-fenced enough to go out without causing an Incident..." "Oh. How sad. Not even if we restrict ourselves to one of my locals?" "You mean... a pub?"

"Yes. There's... well, there's a nice one that I like a lot and that generally isn't too busy. It's nice and small and cosy and... and private. I go there often. By myself, I mean. God, that sounds pathetic as I say it. Um... it would be nice to do something different. We could have something to drink? Maybe... talk a bit. I mean... if you're up for it... I know it's late notice..." "I am so totally up for it. What time and where do I need to be?" I said, frantically wondering how the hell I'd manage to scrounge a lift this late in the evening... "Oh, no, don't be silly. I'll come and pick you up." "What?" "I'll drive to wherever you are. I mean, we're both pretty local, right? It's not like you live on the moon, right? Er... you don't live on the moon, do you?" I laughed loudly. "No such luck I'm afraid. I'm in Ginger's Close down Cranleigh way." "Ginger's Close, is it," she said. "Of course you'd be, just to taunt me with that epithet. Ginger's Close. God. I'll bet that a man named that road. Right. Well, I'm... about three miles away if my car's not lying to me. What number in the Close?" "We're number seven." "I'll be about fifteen minutes or so I think. I've just got to put some fuel in first, Bertha's running on fumes." "So long as you're okay with me basically coming as I am, because fifteen minutes is in no way long enough for me to make myself pretty." "You don't need to do anything special for me, Willa. You're gorgeous and perfect just as you are." My brain skipped a track or two. "So I'll see you outside at about... ten past or so?" "Can't wait," I said on autopilot. "See you now, Willa. "

"Likewise," I said, still freewheeling. She broke the connection and I stared down at my phone. Then I let out a strangled little high-pitched scream and scampered to my room and frantically began to dig out and assemble the nicest outfit I could manage at such short notice. Tartan featured heavily in the form of a mainly-red knee-length wraparound skirt, and I opted for my slim-cut black blazer and a white blouse to go with them. I stripped like a maniac, struggled into clean and presentable lace knickers and bra, and finished dressing at a similarly breakneck pace. I dug in a corner for my nicer black kitten heels, and then took stock. I looked okay. A bit too much lost Scottish public schoolgirl but it would do in a pinch; I wouldn't shame her. A quick bit of subtle lipstick and there, almost normal if you ignored my garish fairground-attraction hair. I quickly ran my comb through my rats-nest, and dug out my nice silver and walnut hairpins to contain everything into a sensible bun that left my ears and neck open. I grabbed my phone and slipped it into my jacket's inner pocket. Then I closed the door of my room. Marius whistled. "Now that's a solid makeover. You look bloody nice, Willa," he said from where he'd claimed all the couch. "Got a date you didn't tell Pete and me about, you tart?" "Hah, no, if only. Meeting a friend for dinner." "A he friend or a she friend?" "A she friend," I said, "but straight as a rail, alas. I sure know how to pick 'em." "What a shame. Well, have fun, toots!"

"Enjoy the movie. Give Pete a kiss from me too when he gets back, will you?" "I'll be sure to slip him a bit of extra tongue on your behalf," he said, grinning. "Ooh, kinky. I approve. Enjoy!" He laughed and waved. .:. Here pinged my phone. I swallowed and stepped out into the evening, closing and locking our front door behind me. She'd parked almost directly in front of the house; the Range Rover's engine was clattering away merrily as she waited for me. I walked slowly down the steps, feeling not at all in control of myself as I opened the door and peered in. She smiled at me from the enfolding leather of the driver's seat. "Gosh, Willa, you look nice," she breathed. "I feel underdressed now. Get in, it's nippy." I climbed in and settled tentatively down into the luxurious leather, pulling the door closed behind me. I fumbled with the seat belt and sighed as it clicked into place. "So," she said. "So," I echoed her, nerves jangling. "Are you all set?" "Yeah." She eased us out into the road and off we went. "I really do love your outfit, by the way," she said. "If that's what you can do in fifteen minutes God help us if you have time to prepare." "Thanks. You... you look really nice too," I added, as I tried not to drool over the pale blue denim jeans she'd selected, the tight white tee shirt

with its little pink sequin heart and the way she'd decided to let her magical hair fall loose down over her shoulders. It made her look even younger. Younger than me, almost. I felt a strange little fizz in my tummy at that thought. "Thanks," she said, smiling. "It's nice to... to dress how I feel, sometimes." "How you feel looks great. Really great. God, those are nice jeans..." And then I flushed and looked away. "Where are we going?" I asked, to try to hide the blush.. "Or should I rather say, where are you taking me?" "The Fox." "Which Fox?" I demanded. "The Fox." "So that's how it's going to be, is it?" She grinned, and I suddenly felt better. Whatever awkwardness had been brewing had now passed, we were back to our usual selves. "So how are you at a loose end?" I said. "And why am I the lucky victim?" "Because of all my friends, you're the only one I'd actually want to spend tonight with." "Oh. Okay." "Willa... are you blushing?" "Yes," I admitted, sourly. She was delighted by the discovery. "That's delicious." The way she said the word was also delicious. I swallowed.

Hard. Christ, was I ever besotted with her. I hunted around for a safer topic... "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." "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 welldressed 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, glasswalled area dotted with minimalist lamps, abstract art and fashionablydistressed 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 ohshes-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." "Tastes change," I said softly, trying to adjust to her sudden openness and the extremely complicated and powerful feelings it was arousing in me.

"His certainly have." "And... yours?" I probed. She shrugged, looked away. "Not like I have much opportunity to test that," she sighed. "What with living more or less alone in the wilderness like I do. I... toy with myself, a lot, but it's not the same as being with... someone." I squirmed slightly, tried to stay light and engaging... "Join a sports club. Catch yourself a nice young firm bit of sausage on the side." "No. That's far foo risky," she said. "Everyone talks and I don't dare give them ammunition. Plus, it could all go horribly wrong and I could end up pregnant again. No thanks. That's most emphatically not what I'm looking for..." "So... what would you be looking for?" I said, leaning forward towards her... "Companionship. Daily sex. And... someone who would want to... to love me and... and just be there for me when I need to cry." I stared at her, trying to think of something to say. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm not... good... at being social any more. And I'm rubbish at keeping my walls up around you." "You... don't have to. Around me, I mean. I understand. Life's hard. And lonely. I'm glad I met you. I'm sorry it took me so long to find you." "So am I," she sighed. She stared down at her wineglass. "This wine is vile," she said, all of a sudden. I sighed, relieved. "Oh thank God, I thought it was just me." "No, it's shit. It's really shit. I'm going to bin it and make myself an Irish coffee. Would you like one?" "I've... um... I've never had one..."

"Then let me teach you something new." She stood, and offered me her hand and, swallowing, I took it. She pulled me up and towed me after her, wafts of her subtle trailing scent tying themselves in knots around my senses. "Stand here," she said, steering me to a section of the worktop with a gentle touch of her hand to the small of my back. I shivered; she thankfully didn't seem to notice. I stared hungrily at her as she went to dig in a cupboard; watched the way her jeans cupped and flowed with her, watched the way the tee shirt rode up her back and exposed the quite exquisite line of her spine as she bent to rummage. I would sell my soul to kiss you there, came the bitter and unhelpful thought. She returned with a jar of coffee beans. She came to stand right next to me, the curve of her hip just brushing against my belly as she leaned forward over the counter top to reach for the grinder. I couldn't help it; a little whimper escaped me and I pushed back against her. I heard her take a sharp, shaky breath. My heart was doing something crazy three counties over. She turned slowly towards me, stared at me, licked her lips as if she were... nervous. I was unable to look away. "Willa?" she breathed. "Uh... huh..." I gulped. She stared at me a moment more. Slowly, so slowly it seemed to be a dream, she leaned in... and... closed her eyes...

and... (with an almost inaudible moan) ... kissed me. I reacted almost instinctively; I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her lovely firm hip hard against my belly. The jar clattered onto the counter top; she spun in my embrace and clutched my shoulder blades and clung to me as she arched herself against me. Dimly I realised that she was trying to worm her leg up between mine. I grunted, shivered as my body responded to the wonderful pressure of her thigh against my crotch. I braced myself against the counter, trailed my nails up her back and then back down along her shoulders, driven nearly wild by the moan she let out, by the soft perfection of her lips and tongue and the sheer wonderful taste of her... I managed to tangle my fingers into her hair, holding her to me, almost bruising my mouth against her as my need took over. She gasped a breath and began to kiss my neck, my shoulder, my jaw, nibble my earlobe as I clung to her, clutched her, groaning and wriggling and panting as she got as close to me as she could. "Slow... down..." I panted. "No," she moaned. "No, no, no, I need you, please, please don't make me stop now... I want to feel what it's like. I want to feel what you're like. I want you," she cried out. "I want you so much. Just... just make me feel loved, just make me feel needed, just for a bit, just for..." She forced me back against the counter again, trying desperately to persuade me. My entire body was on fire, incandescent, nerves jangling, aching in a way that I had never felt before. I tried to get my hands up under her shirt to those breasts I so desperately wanted to touch. She writhed, fumbled down between us.

And I cried out a shuddering, desperate "Wait!" as she forced her hand down between my legs and I felt her fingers groping for me through the thin woven fabric of my skirt. That brought her back to me; she stopped, pulled away, staring at me, breathing hard, a frown creasing her gorgeous brow. I stared back at her, drowning in those eyes, feeling that almost hurt, almost accusatory gaze deep in my belly... Then I shuddered hard again, gasping as my body let me know that it didn't appreciate being reigned in like that. Her fingers felt so good where they were. I snatched a breath. I tried to form the words that I needed to say to her. "Sam," I moaned. "Uh huh," she answered, also out of breath. She shifted her leg in the most wonderful way against me. I tried to suppress the driving urge to spread my legs for her. "Say I... do this. Say we... carry on like this." "Uh huh." "What... what do you want this... to be." "I want to... to spend tonight with you..." "Just... tonight? Only tonight?" "No," she whispered. "Not just tonight." "So... more than just... this." "Yes," she moaned. "Why?" "I know you... want me, Willa..." "... oh," I squeaked.

"Tell me I'm lying. Tell me it's my own imagination. Tell me I imagined what you were doing with your hand earlier tonight. Tell me you didn't want to touch me. Tell me that if I had spread my legs a bit you wouldn't have gone all the way up to... to me. Tell me that you don't want me and... and I'll stop. All this will stop." "I... can't..." I wailed. "Well then. This... this is your chance. I'm available. Tonight. If you want me, I can be yours. I can be your toy all night. I can be anything you need me to be. Anything you want. Anything. But it's tonight or never. Tonight or never. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of wanting what I... can't have." "And... that is..." I groaned. "You," she moaned. "I don't know why. I don't know why I do. I... don't ask me why. Just...Willa..." She took a shuddering breath. "Nobody wants to be with me like you do. Nobody gives me the attention and affection and joy that you do. Nobody ever, ever watches me like you do. Makes me feel... attractive... like you do. Makes me... want do do this like you do. I... I want to be with you. I... I need you, Willa, I need you in my life. You fill up the empty places in me. Please... fill one more empty place. For me. Just...just one more. Just one... please..." she whimpered. "Is... is that too much to ask? Must I beg you? I'll... I'll beg..." And I realised how futile it was to pretend to myself that I wasn't going to let her have me. It was a terrible idea. It would all end in tears for us both. But... even if tonight was all I go to have. Even if tonight was the only time I ever got to be with her... I wanted it. I wanted her. She was all I wanted.

I pulled her hard to me and kissed her; her hands spasmed on my body and she let out a shivery little groan. "I'm here," I whispered.. "I'm here. Right here. Please don't cry. Please don't beg me. I'm already here. All of me. Let me show you. Here." I dragged the hem of my skirt out of the way and fumbled for her hand; guided it down to me, to where my thin panties had now finally failed at their duty. She made an almost feral sound as I stroked our fingers along me, pushing my panties aside and parting me; I moaned and bucked hard against her as I teased our fingertips just into me. My belly shuddered; my body pulsed on us. "Oh... oh God," I whimpered. "Willa... oh... is... is that from... me?" "Oh my fuck is... it ever..." I groaned I left her hand there and began to stroke and caress my own hands over her perfect bum like I'd always wanted to. She eased her finger slowly into my aching body again; I groaned softly, deep in my throat. "You're this wet... for me?" She sounded... stunned. "All the time," I panted. "All the time. It's... I can't be anywhere. I can't go near you because. Because then all I end up wanting is... is for you to touch me... like... this..." "Stop talking. Stop talking and kiss me again." So I pulled her to me and started to do just that. She let out a breathy little hiss as I fought with her tee shirt and finally got my bare hands onto the warm, smooth skin of her lower back. My pussy clenched once more on her slowly probing finger, I gasped a breath. "Willa... " she moaned into my ear.

"Uh huh..." I panted, loving the gentle way she was only-just-toying with me. "I...mm... want to get naked with you. Would... would you like that..." I bracketed her cheeks with my hands as I kissed her and whimpered my wordless submission of my terms of total surrender. She slipped out of me; teased my clit once in passing, giggling at the gasp and shudder she earned from me. I leaned against the counter, aching for her. Her cheeks and throat were red and flushed and we'd managed to thoroughly dishevel her hair. "Come," she breathed. "I'm sleeping downstairs. It's still very nice there. Lots of space for... for us. For us. So... come with me, Willa. Now. Please?" "Okay," I squeaked, and I tottered after her on wobbly legs as she led the way down a passage and through two doors and a walk-through dressing room. As she reached the enormous bedroom and its super king-sized bed she pulled her tee shirt off with one practised movement and reached around behind her to unclip her plain white bra. She flung it aside, and spun to face me. "Oh... my..." I whispered, stumbling to a halt and staring. Her breasts were stunning little teardrops; her small, firm nipples jutting just proud of them and her dark areolae. "I... hope they're... okay," she said, shoulders hunching as if she were preparing to deflect some anticipated scorn... "Oh my God. Sam... they're... oh my God. I'm a bum girl but I think I might just change for those...oh wow, they're nice. Oh wow." She relaxed; her smiled blossomed again. "Okay. Come on. Show me yours, then. Fair's fair." "No." "No?"

"No. You have to undress me. Those are the rules." An eyebrow crept up; she took a step closer and trailed a finger slowly along my cheek. "Really?" she breathed. "There are rules? For me? You're really going to hold me to them? On my first time? Really? For shame, Willa..." "Uh... huh..." I whimpered, as she leaned in and brushed her lips to my neck. "Rules. Undress... uhn... me..." "Oh well," she whispered. "I suppose I'd better get started then..." I stood, heart thumping madly, as she slowly began to unbutton my blouse and fold it back and away from me. "Lace," she said, with a sudden shudder. "I somehow knew it would be. I like lace on you. It's... oh God, it's so hot to think of you wearing it all evening..." Her breasts were warm against me as she fumbled and fiddled with my clothes; she quickly located and tripped the clasp of my bra and released me, making a little noise of satisfaction as she did so. "You're awfully quiet," she added. "Am... am I doing okay?" "So much more than okay. I'm... just... loving the pampering," I managed. "Pampering. Mm. That's a good word. Pampering. I might have to make a habit of that..." "Oh please," I breathed. She found the tiny brass buckles that secured my skirt. "I'm going to finish stripping you now," she announced. "Unless... unless you..." "Do it. Stop taunting and just do it. I'm at risk of having an accident right here if you don't; you've got me wound so tight." She nibbled gently at my shoulder and slowly worked first the one and then the other buckle free; my skirt unwrapped and dangled from my hips, secured only by the last little modesty button that she quickly slipped free of its buttonhole. And then she slowly eased my arms free from my blouse, and relieved me of my bra, dropping both carelessly aside.

"Oh my word, Willa," she whispered. "I've never been with a woman. And now I really do think that that was a huge mistake. God, you're gorgeous." "You don't need to sweet talk me to get me naked for you..." I whispered, blushing fiercely. "I'm just saying it so it's been said. Some words... need to be spoken." She put her hands to her belly and fiddled with her buttons, then slid her jeans down and off her hips, exposing the almost non-existent little black g-string that was all that still clothed her. I stared at her, for once at a loss for words. "Willa?" "Uh huh..." "I'll take your undies off if you do mine," she said with a cheeky little smile. "You're very... playful... tonight." "I... I'm not usually. You're... different. You do this to me. I want to... to do this little dance for you." She slowly eased my soaked knickers down off me, then stood, appraising me for a moment. "Now me," she said with a little shiver in her voice. So I knelt down in front of her, and slowly, slowly slid her g-string down the perfect curve of her thighs. "Oh fuck me," I groaned, staring at her meticulously-shaven lips with their little landing strip above them and the glistening little pink cleft between them. "I'd kind of like to, you know," she said. I glanced up; she was grinning. Then her grin faded. "But... you're going to have to tell me... um... how you like it." I reached up and pulled my hairpins free. I dropped them onto my clothes and shook out my hair. Then I stood back up and kissed her slowly and gently, full on her lips.

She shuddered. "How about I show you instead," I whispered. "Okay," she moaned. She took my hand, and pulled me to the bed. She fell backwards onto it, pulling me after her, laughing like a girl as I landed half on her. Then she lay there, staring up at me, and her grin faded. "You make me feel... young again," she said, almost sadly. "Let me remind you how young you are," I answered her. I eased my way up towards her, and lowered myself mostly onto her, and slowly began to kiss her neck as I toyed with her nipple. She whimpered and flailed for my thigh and pulled it up and over her so that she could force her leg in between mine. I paused for a moment as I felt it pressing on me again. "You do love being... between my legs," I said, squirming slightly against her. "I... like the idea of... spreading you. I like... feeling that heat... on me..." "Tease." "Says the... the girl who... didn't let me finish... teasing her..." she panted. "Teasing is it. Like... this?" She was so wet, and so hot, and her lovely little clit was a wonderful firm nub under my questing fingertip. She moaned loudly, spread her other leg out and away to open herself. "You're soaked," I whispered as I slowly teased my fingertip around her. "Never... get like this...ever... any more..." "Never?" "Need lube... sometimes...to play... but... oh... but you feel so good against me...oh, that's so good..."

I gently parted her inner lips, probed and stroked and teased against the tight line of her entrance. She dug her nails into my flank, stared up at me with a vague little frown. "Please... Willa..." "What?" "Just... be in me... just...fill me with you..." "Are you sure..." "Yes," she hissed. "Just... just fuck me... just..." And she arched upwards, moaning softly as I slipped my middle finger into her. She flailed at my hand to hold it buried deep in her as her muscles clenched hard, twice, on me. "Willa," she moaned. "Oh, oh Willa, oh, you just have... have no idea how good that is." I eased my finger backwards, then nuzzled softly into her neck as I pushed hard into her. "Oh fuck," she groaned. "Oh fuck I need you. I need you so much. I... I want to come on you. Please, can I come on you? Just... just do me hard, please, please I need it, don't be gentle, just... oh... oh please..." I moved further up onto her and began to kiss her again - partly because I loved the feel of her lips and partly just to stop the garbled run on nonsense she was uttering. She wrapped her arms around me, held me firmly against her I began to drive my finger hard and fast into her. The liquid little noises of each stroke I gave her blended with the faint mewling little gasps she let out whenever my hand bottomed out. I ached for her. She was so hot, so very much absolutely everything I wanted, from the soft velvety skin of her shaven mons to the rose-pink flush on her chest to the intense pleasure of the way she moved under me to the faint scent of her musky, inebriating scent. I was utterly and irrevocably lost to her.

I wanted to blow her mind. I wanted to make her want to keep me. I curled my finger over to put pressure against the gently ribbed front wall of her vagina and the tone and timbre of her noises changed. She began to writhe, to undulate under me; I could feel her thighs quivering. She broke free, gasping loudly, clawing my back to the point of pain, but I ignored it as irrelevant; I was too consumed with the way she felt, the way she moved, the way every little sound telegraphed just how much she wanted and needed this. "Willa," she begged, "Willa, please..." I took her nipple between my teeth and bit down gently. She moaned and her leg jerked under me. I added my tongue, rolling it on and around the hard firm nub of her. The muscles of her belly began to quiver; her breaths became shorter, even more high-pitched. I shifted, released her, kissed up over nipple and breast and shoulder to her neck, where I began to nuzzle and nibble again. I could feel her stiffening. Soon she began to moan low, almost disturbing little sounds. I increased my tempo, and then, acting on my own desire to... to possess her... I added my ring finger to her tight little pussy as well. She cried out, then seemed to lose control as she clamped her thighs on my hand and thigh and began to hump up madly against me, grunting little gasps in and out. She didn't cry out again, didn't scream or whimper in ecstasy like some girls I'd been with. With her it seemed more primal than that - her entire body quivering as her muscles clamped and released over and over and over on my deeply buried fingers.

Her orgasm seemed to last forever. Then... finally... she slowly slumped back down. Her legs fell apart, she let out a slow, breathy groan. And she lay there, eyes closed, flushed pink from heaving breasts to cheeks to belly to the hot scarlet of her mons and labia... just panting. Some time passed before she took one long deep breath. Then she pulled at my shoulders and dragged me to her and crushed me in against her. I heard her sniff once; and I closed my eyes and lay quiet against her, letting her just be. I left my fingers in her, though, because I didn't want to miss a moment of access to her absolutely delicious body. And every so often I'd shift them slightly, and she'd moan almost inaudibly and shimmy against me. "Are you okay?" I whispered, when I couldn't bear her silence any more. "Not even slightly." "What's wrong?" I breathed. "Still trying to work that bit out..." "Oh. Do... shall I get out of you..." "No! No," she added, softer. "I love them where they are. I... it's just... oh God, Willa, that was so intense. I've... I've never experienced anything like that. So... so... I'm just..." "Overwhelmed?" I gently suggested. "You certainly left me... senseless for a bit there." I raised myself on my elbow and stared down at her. She stared right back. She kept trying to frown but a smile would always break through. I grinned. "Endorphins are fun, aren't they." "You are all the fun I ever want. That was... unforgettable. I needed that. Thank you."

She slid her hand down my back, teasing her soft touch gently along the muscles on either side of my spine. I shivered. "So... how are you doing?" she asked me, almost shyly. "I'd hump a log into sawdust right about now," I muttered. "I... I don't think I've ever been this horny. Or this wet. Ever. God... oh my God, Sam. Look. Look at that. I'm actually dripping. You've actually got me so aroused that I'm dripping." She grinned up at me. "So... you enjoyed that then?" "You... you intoxicate me. You, your body, the scent of you, the sounds you made when you came... I could never get enough of any of that." "Mm." She slipped her hand downwards, nudged at my hip. "Roll away a bit," she begged. "I want to touch you again." I shifted my leg, opened myself, granting her access; I bit my lip hard as she fumbled at me, arching forward a bit as she found my clit again. "That's the spot," I grunted. "Oh, oh that's nice..." "You feel magical," she whispered. "And so... so slippery. Can I... look at you?" "Look... at me? What..." "At your lips. Your pussy. Your... clitoris. I've... never seen anyone else's..." "Oh. Nobody's ever... asked me that before. I always kind of assumed permission was... mm... implicitly given..." "Well, I'm asking." "You can look, touch, taste, feel, be in absolutely any part of me you want to," I told her earnestly. "I'm serious. I'm... I'm here for you. You can have me any way you need to. Any... uhn... bit of me..." "Any bit?" she said, grinning. "So like, nostrils and so on are on the table here?"

"Um. Okay. Almost... any bit," I corrected myself. I was so in love with her smile. There was a little dash of wickedness to it, and I couldn't get enough of it. Or her. "Want to roll over?" she asked. "Onto your back?" So I eased myself out of her (earning me a delightful little groan as my fingers cleared her pussy) and stretched out. She took a slow, deep breath as she gathered herself, then shimmied down the bed for a better view. I opened my legs and reached down to spread myself for her so that she could see all of me. She stared down at me. "God," she breathed, after a while. "You're... so pink. And so... neat." I shifted my hips, smiled up at her. "I'm enjoying you staring at me like that. It's very... entertaining. I like that expression." "Looking at your body like this is doing it for me, that's for sure. You're gorgeous. And I want you. Desperately so. What do you like, Willa? How can I please you? Please? Tell me what you need..." "I... I really like slow touching of my clit. It's my guaranteed crowdpleaser. Just with a fingertip. Give me your hand..." "Here..." "Like... this..." "Oh... oh wow, your skin is so soft. And... and you're so warm and slick. And... so bare." "Yes.... uhn... like having not much down there..." "It's very erotic. I... like it..." "Sam," I whined. "Yeah..."

"I'm loving this dirty talk. I really am... but, do you know what I'd really love right now?" "What?" she breathed. "You don't have to do it..." "Stop teasing. Tell me. I want to make you feel good." "I'd... love your tongue on me... if you like..." "Oh." She pondered for a moment. "Really?" "If you don't want..." "No, I want," she declared. She shifted, lowered herself between my thighs; I groaned as she tentatively touched her tongue to me then withdrew. "Where? How?" she mumbled. "Just... around my clit... like you would a... finger..." She dropped lower, gently probed me. I couldn't stop the low, almost pained moan; couldn't resist the urge to reach out and tangle my hands into her hair as she slowly and hesitantly explored me, tasted me. She grew more confident as she felt how I was responding to her; I raised myself on my elbows and stared down at her, watching her as she nuzzled at me, tongued me, and even tried once or twice to probe my entrance with her tongue. She stared up at me, then broke for air, grinning. "It's... nice," she breathed. "Doing this to you. Tasting you. I... like this. I like this a lot." She lowered her mouth to me again and I writhed, whimpering. "Use... your fingers... in me..." I gasped in between her slow, excruciating licks. She broke for air again, smiled up at me. "Is that nice?"

"So nice, oh my God it's so nice..." I let myself fall back and started to finger and tease my nipples, shuddering as she penetrated me with her finger and lowered her mouth to me again. "Just... like that," I whimpered. "That's great. Just keep doing that. Do that... just do that... oh my God, Sam, you're... you're great, just... just don't stop... or change anything, please..." I was ramping up fast towards what promised to be a brutal orgasm. God, I loved her in me. I loved the hot scent of us making love. The heat of her mouth against me. The way her breath would sometimes catch in her throat as she swallowed... I was close. She had beginner's luck. Beginner's fuck, the twisted bit of me punned. And I began to laugh, and then my orgasm took me and turned my laughter to incoherence as I arched and writhed against her, thighs clamping hard on her cheeks as lightning and fireworks going off in every last far-flung bit of me. She was pitiless. She kept tonguing me, making little delighted noises as she clenched me to her and possessed me, body and soul. Very quickly, though, I reached the point where I couldn't take any more. "Stop. Stop stop stop," I begged, body shaking wildly. "Please, please please, please Sam, please..." And, achingly slowly, she slipped herself out of me and started to kiss her way up from my mons to my belly and from there upwards between my breasts to my mouth; she lowered herself to me and laughed, exultant, as my full-body shudder rattled us both. I buried my face in her neck, balanced on a perfect razor's edge between euphoria and tears; she must have sensed it because she rolled onto her side and pulled me in to her and lay there, simply stroking the back of my head, both of us just breathing.

.:. She shifted slightly, tucked some strands of my hair away from my eyes. "So..." she murmured. I nuzzled closer, almost lost in her warmth. My hand rested on her hip, fingers curling to follow her lovely lithe form. "Willa. Are you listening?" "No." "Really?" she demanded. "Yes. I'm too busy enjoying being lost in the scent and bliss of you." "Willa..." She sounded serious. I sighed. So it was time to pay the piper, then. "Yeah?" I breathed. I shifted back, opened my eyes, met her gaze. "Are... was... was this...good?" I stared at her for a moment, nonplussed. "Are you really, seriously and unironically asking me that, Sam?" "Yes," she whispered. "I loved this. It was... it was so good, so special. I... it was... look, I understand it's a sudden thing to spring on you given I jumped you, but..." "You jumped me, is it?" She managed a small smile. "Didn't I?" "I did at least half the jumping. Probably more than half, given my tendencies..." "Oh. Really?" I grinned. "Are you asking me if I want to... have sex again, sometime? Specifically with you? Very specifically with you?"

She flushed. "Kind of, yes," she confessed. "It... it was really, really special. And nice. Um. For me." "For me too, you know," I said, suddenly serious. I sighed. "I... look, I know I talk a good fight, but... I don't do this, Sam. I don't jump into bed with everyone. With anyone, really. This... this was different for me. I need you to know how different. I'm not a... a casual, discardable girl. This was... this was a big leap of faith for me." She seemed to relax a bit as she let out a shaky breath. "Good. I'm... I'm glad to hear that. I'd... I'd really hate to think this was a once off. I'd be devastated. I don't want it to be. A once off, I mean," she said, almost babbling the words in her rush to get them out. I stared at her for a heartbeat, loving her for her innocence. "Oh, you're far too good at this for it to be a once off", I breathed. "Now that I know how good you are I don't want anything else but to be like this with you. But... on a slightly more awkward note though... what now? You're... a married women. Well, allegedly, anyway. I can't say I've seen much evidence..." "Tell me something I don't know," she muttered. "And that's the problem in a nutshell. What are we going to do?" "I don't know. I mean... it's not like I can waltz up to you in the street and snog you, is it." "I wouldn't complain. But... yes." I watched her. I somehow knew what she was going to ask. There was nobody else on Earth I would ever consider doing it for. There was nobody else I would let ask me this. But... I knew she had no choice. Not yet, anyway. I would need to agree to it to be able to... be with her like this. Like I needed to.

I wouldn't let it hurt me. "It's hard being an adult, isn't it," I said, partly to myself. "Yes," she whispered. "So hard." "Well. Sam... if you need... this... to be a secret, then... I guess... I can do that. For you. Only for you. I'll always be here for you if you want me. " "When I want you," she corrected me. "Because that's going to be constantly. Constantly, Willa." She stared at me, and it seemed she was almost... sad. "So does that make you my firm and pert young piece on the side?" she said. I smiled at that, remembering my description and enjoying the changes she'd made to it. "I'll do my very best," I said. She moved closer, touched her forehead to mine. "I feel so filthy that I'm asking you to be my dirty little secret. I know how... sordid that is. I'm... I'm sorry, Willa. I wish... " "Sex is complicated. Wanting people is even more so," I breathed. "I want..." she whispered. "What?" I gently asked her, after she'd been silent for a while. "This. This tenderness. This closeness to you. Your skin, your breath, your scent. Your heartbeat. I want this in my every day. I don't want to be without this. I don't want to have to hide how much I... care for you. I want to be able to kiss you and be damned to everyone else and their... their fucking judgement." Her words warmed me through and through. So I bit down the threatening sob and kissed her, kissed her cheeks, listened with an aching heart to the little shuddering sigh she let out. "Do... do you want to stay the night?" she whispered. "I'd... I'd really like to have you here. Tonight, I mean. But I'll drive you home if you'd prefer..."

"I'll stay," I breathed. "But only because you asked me so nicely." She shifted, glanced up at me, saw the smile. "You're terrible." "Oh, babe, you've barely even scratched the surface." "I look forward to getting deeper, then," she said, with a coy little smile of her own. "Willa?" "Yeah, sweetie?" "Could you... spoon me for a bit? It's... it's been so very long since I was held. And... and I'd really like it. To be held like that again, I mean. By you. Um. Very specifically by you." She was so tongue-tied, so sweet. I loved her for it. "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...

"Yep," Mary said with a knowing smile. "Some absolutely lovely posh lady." "Oh..." Oh no. I went all strange and shaky. Surely not... Surely she hadn't... ... had she? I stood. And I followed Mary nervously through to the main warehouse floor... And stopped dead in my tracks, struck dumb. She stood near the warehouse entrance, gently backlit by the bright sunlight outside; hair a burnished red-gold glory that framed her divine face. Her duck-egg-blue Santa-Barbara-emblazoned tee shirt was skintight and ended maybe an inch above the waistline of her rich blue bodysheathing denims, showing her slender midriff and wonderful navel off to the world with careless and almost wanton abandon. She pushed her sunglasses further back on her head, and sauntered confidently to me, tall and glamorous in the lovely brown leather boots she'd selected that morning. A tiny part of me noticed that her fingers were bare - she'd shed her rings. A less tiny, but extremely horrified part of me noticed Mary grinning widely off to one side as Sam wrapped her arms around me and leaned in to kiss me full on the lips - long and slow and sultry and more than enough to turn my legs to jelly and my knickers to a disaster zone. "Hello you," my lover breathed when she was done toying with me. "Um... hi... um... um... how..." I stammered, hot and pink and... aching. "There aren't many builder's yards nearby. I went looking. Yours was fifth on the list of nine."

"Oh," I squeaked. "Go take your lunch break, Willa," Mary chuckled from the side. "I'll do mine later. Take your time and don't hurry back, pet. Enjoy the sunshine, it's a lovely day outside." "Thank you..." I managed, heart clattering around like a crackers horse upending an entire warehouse of pots and pans under my ribs as I stared in complete distraction into Sam's lovely eyes. "Come on," Sam said. "We can picnic on Bertha's load tray. I brought goodies. Sorry the view will be of the parking lot and timber stacks..." "Oh my God, Sam... you... you can't just turn up and..." "Can't I?" she whispered, grinning as she pressed herself in against me. "Are these more rules for me? How distressing. Here's my rebuttal. I missed you last night. I missed you even more this morning when I woke up, cold and horny and so very, very deprived of you..." "I missed you with every breath of my being, but... but..." "Your boss doesn't seem to mind." "She's not my boss. She's my boss's boss - his wife. Oh. Oh my God! Sam! You can't just... just show up here! I'm not out here!" "Oh," she said, smile disappearing like smoke. "Oh fuck. Um... I... I didn't even think..." I stared at her. Then I started to laugh. I stood up on my sensibly-shod toes and kissed her soundly, so tall and gorgeous in her fancy-pants boots. "I guess I am now," I giggled. "Mary's the world's best-natured gossip and that news is going to go through the office like Typhoid in a nunnery. You've done for me, Sam. Oh well." "Sorry," she said, clearly mortified. "It... it just seemed like such a natural thing to do to come and find you and..." "I love it. I... I'm... surprised. I'm staggered. But I love... it." I fumbled her hand into mine.

"I hope you brought nice goodies, though," I added, grinning. "To make up for the absolutely biblical amount of teasing I'm going to get back there when we're done." She was bright pink and so utterly flustered; it really was quite delicious. "Sam," I breathed. "Yeah," she squeaked. And I kissed her again, enjoying the little moan she let slip. Holy God, I loved her to smithereens. I knotted my fingers into hers. "So where are you parked? I hope it's away from prying eyes, because there are going to be lots of them." She grinned sheepishly. "I honestly hadn't thought that far. Just around the corner." And she led me back with her and sat me down on a folded wool blanket that she set out on Bertha's tail gate. She poured me a cup of tea in a battered tin mug, and handed me a plate with sandwiches from a wicker picnic basket she'd strapped to the side of Bertha's boot. "I made these," she said, softly. "With care and affection." "That must be why they taste so good," I mumbled, around half a mouthful. She smiled, pleased. "I'm glad you like them. I wasn't sure... what you would." "You could feed me anything and I'd eat it happy in the knowledge that you'd touched it." "You're terrible." "Maybe. But I'm being dead serious. Sam... whatever possessed you? To do this?" "I missed you," she said, as if she were explaining to me that water was wet.

"I thought you needed to keep me secret." "The people I need to keep you secret from don't come to places like this to mix with people like us; they have people who do that for them while they drink Gin and play Croquet and Badminton." "Ah," I said. "So we're talking... Horsey people?" "Many of them are, yes," she sighed. "So... yes. I need to be...somewhat circumspect, with you. Far more than I want to. And I have to hide you from Mark for now, obviously. But... I..." "You... what?" "You're important to me, Willa," she said, soft and intent. "I... I need you to believe that, to know it. I don't want you to feel like you're an idle bored housewife's lesbian dalliance. You matter. How you feel... matters. Deeply. Intensely. I want to shout out loud from the mountaintops how gleeful I am now that I've found you. And instead I have to whisper it where nobody can hear it. And it sucks. I don't want this for you. I don't want this for us." Us, part of me echoed... "You're awfully... serious," I breathed, after a moment's mute and awestruck silence. "You're the first person other than my daughter who's... who's held me and comforted me and... and let me just be me." "Meaning..." "I..." She sighed, clearly frustrated with herself. "Do you ever have something totally clear in your head, but when you try to explain it it just..." "Goes to pieces? Yeah. I know that struggle," I said. I squinted at her. "Since we're being honest about stuff, Sam. Just so you know. Just so the words have been said - I've wanted you since pretty much the first time I saw you." She blushed. "Really?" "Oh fuck me, yes."

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh. That's... that's really nice to know, actually." "Good. So. Just so I can be prepared. Is... is this sort of thing going to happen often? Fly-by abductions where you are dressed both up and down in a way entirely designed to make me want you?" She laughed, delighted by that little gem. "Sorry," she said, still giggling. "I... I just wanted to look nice for you." "Oh, believe me, you did just fine. I love that shirt on you." She tucked her hair back and picked up a second thermos. "Coffee," she announced, pleased. "I came prepared." And she poured her own tin mug, and sat beside me in the sunshine, and said very little with words but oh, oh so much with her eyes. My colleagues were all quiet as mice when I slunk back in after my "lunch" break, but Mary stopped by soon enough. "She's beautiful," she said to me, pitched low so nobody would overheard her. "Good for you, Willa. You of all people deserve someone that lovely." And I stammered a squeaky little "Thanks," and buried my flaming cheeks in the books for the rest of the day. .:. Our morning walks changed. Gone was any pretence at reserve - now we'd openly step along arm-inarm, and she'd often lean her head in against me. And we'd kiss - often. She began to tell me the more intimate details of her life; about Beth's struggles with traditional education and her husband's inability or unwillingness to engage over it - she bitterly commented on one misty morning walk that it was almost as if he believed that if he didn't admit to something then it hadn't happened. So all the fallout, all the meetings with Beth's teachers, all the late night worry fell on Sam's slender shoulders alone. At first, at least.

Because as she started to unload on me she realised that she could unload more on me; I'd walk quietly beside her, and listen to her, and not try to fix anything - I'd just hold her hand, and ask her the questions that I thought would help her sort and settle things in her own mind so that she could make the decisions herself. So that she would fix what could be fixed - by herself. But she knew what I was doing, and she'd watch me sometimes with this strange little smile that would give me all sorts of wicked ideas... At least twice a week she'd come visit me at lunch; and she started bringing boxes of biscuits for me to share around the office afterwards. Spring rolled through to summer, and I adopted my hot weather outfit of thin tee shirts and short skirts; Sam approved wholeheartedly and said she loved being able to watch my shoulder blades while she was walking behind me. (I suspect she also loved being able to see my bare legs, because she'd casually and salaciously grope my bum if I forgot myself and turned my back on her for an unguarded moment) Her absent husband's calendar filled up even further as the evenings grew longer and life moved outside for the lighter months of the year. Which meant that Sam had more time free for me - sometimes entire weeks at a time. And we took great advantage of that; we started to spend evenings on her outside entertainment area, cocooned in a lovely round wickerwork day-bed, screened from the world by tall hedges and a glacis of open land. And I'd slowly make love to her, sometimes going so far as to pin her down so I could make her come multiple times before I'd finally surrender to her desperate pleas and let her do the same to me. And somewhere along the way I had fallen completely, utterly and hopelessly in love with her. I loved the way she had of tucking her hair back over her shoulders. I loved the way she'd have to rub sand out of her eyes and free hair from her mouth first thing in the morning. I loved the way she'd stretch out her hamstrings before straightening with a sleepy grin. I loved the way she tasted. I loved the little sounds she made in her sleep.

And I loved the way she'd leave her hand on my lap when we were sitting with one another. Sam completed me. With her I felt no lack, no worries about what tomorrow would bring. I started bringing a small suitcase of clothes, and I'd spend multiple nights at a time with her when I could. And bit by bit I started to believe that maybe, just maybe... she'd keep me. A few months after we became an "item", Sam introduced me to Beth for the first time. I watched the tall, coltish girl as she pranced around her mother; so similar in build and yet so vastly different in temperament to Sam. I quickly grew to love her too, and Beth for her part was absolutely fascinated by my hair and accent and style. As time flashed by she grew comfortable enough around me to sit with me, leaning against me as she read or binge-watched her favourite TV shows. I became Auntie Willa to her, then just Willa, then just Wills, and I'd see the way Sam would watch the two of us and smile, or sometimes have to turn away until she could be strong again. As the long Summer nights started to shorten, I started to feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a little Willa-shaped space in their lives for me as well. I began to understand Beth's challenges - she was extremely smart and very aware of the feelings of those around her, but she struggled to direct her energy or focus onto anything that she didn't find interesting. She'd happily explain the (many) moons of Jupiter or the (even more) rules of Go to me, though, so I spent hours listening to her bubble enthusiastically about whatever was most important to her at that particular time. And somehow, bit by bit, I discovered that I had the knack to redirect her interest and energy to schoolwork for a few minutes at a time - Beth would grimace and sigh and roll her eyes but still gamely put some effort in, because it was me who was asking her to, and because she adored me.

But despite all this I never forgot that I was an interloper and, technically, the other woman. So I never meddled between mother and daughter - I never even breathed a word when they had their frequent disagreements; I'd quietly find somewhere else to be until the tantrums were done and they'd cried and made up. And on the nights that Beth was there with us, Sam would hold me to her and gently kiss me goodnight before heading up alone to the master bedroom. We never did anything unless it was just the two of us - that was a line that neither of us would even consider crossing with Beth there. As the Autumn evenings drew in we moved our lethargy from the outside daybed to a couch we'd situated in front of the wood-burning stove that stood in a corner of Sam's massive internal lounge and entertainment space. I'd watch Sam in the firelight and wonder what strange whim of fate had brought her to me. And I'd often wonder what I'd done to deserve her. .:. It was October - a dark evening with a threat of high winds and rain in the early hours. Sam and I had made a bed out of cushions on the floor, and built the fire up. And then we'd made slow, languid love - neither of us had anything left to prove so our time together had become something gradual and intense rather than pure raw need. I loved the scent of her after sex. She reached over me to put her wineglass aside; her breast brushed over me and I smiled to myself as my body responded to the touch of more of her skin on mine. "I do like when you reach over me like that," I murmured.

"Mm. I know. And I bet you like this too," she breathed as she dropped her lips to my left nipple and slowly took it between them. I shuddered. "Oh, you know I do," I hissed, watching entranced as always as she danced the tip of her tongue on and around it. She grinned. "I'll give you a few more minutes to rest. Then I'm going to have you again, I think." "Tease," I chuckled. "Uh huh." She settled back in against me and shifted her thigh over mine as she snuggled in closer to me. "Beth got a distinction for English," she said with a matter-of-fact smile. "Her first." "Oh! Oh my God, that's great news!" "It's thanks to you and your patience. She works for you, not me. Stubborn little miss. She was so proud, Willa. God, I wish you could have been there, there was a light in her eyes that I've never seen before. It's the first time she's ever really believed in herself..." "I'm so happy for her. I'm so happy she's seen what she's capable of with just a little focus. We'll sort out her Geography and History as well, don't fret." "I am so grateful for you, you know," Sam breathed. "Ever since you came into my life things have been better. Everything's better with you." "Well, Sam, it's only fair. You've completely changed my life." "How so?" she said. She propped herself up on an elbow and stared down at me. "Just... I'm full. For once. For once, it feels like I know where I... maybe... belong." She took a breath. Then she froze as we heard the front door open and, shortly thereafter, slam closed. "Samantha?" called a man's voice. Her pupils dilated; my heart went from zero to crackers in a second.

"Christ," I whispered. "Is that..." "It's Mark. Fuck. Fuck! Where are our clothes?" "In the bedroom," I said, fighting down the hysterical urge to giggle. "Fuck!" she swore again. "Samantha? I know you're home, your car's outside. Where are you? And why the fuck are the lights off, I'm not a fucking moth!" Sam struggled out of our nest of blankets and began to try to slink to the downstairs guest room where we'd abandoned our clothing shortly after arrival. I covered my mouth to stifle myself; it was stupid, we were in deep pooh, and my instinctive response was to snigger at my lover's attempt to sneak off somewhere. The downstairs lights flicked on. "Samantha!" A tall greying man in a very well cut suit stalked around the corner and stopped, staring. I peeked out from behind the sofa and watched Sam as she straightened her shoulders and stared haughtily back at the newcomer. "Samantha, what the fuck are you doing running around naked? Is there... is there a man here?" "Strange that that's your first assumption. No, Mark, there's no man here," she said, cold and level. "Just you." He seemed to miss the barb. "Then... what on Earth are you..." "Aren't you supposed to be in Manchester this week?" "The event finished early. I decided to come home." "Why?" Sam said. "Surely Melanie's going to be disappointed?" He stiffened; his face reddened. I watched him clench his jaw.

"Yes, I know about Melanie," she said. "And Clara. And... Josie, was it? Pretty names. How many other pretty names have there been over the years, Mark?" "You spiteful little..." he began. "What?" she interrupted him. "Bitch? Whore? Cunt? Which name was it going to be this time, Mark? Lets go for cunt; you are after all so very familiar with them." She crossed her arms and stood, waiting as he gaped at her. "Do you know what used to hurt the most?" she said. "What used to hurt the most was when I thought it was me that did this. That I'd chased you away. That I wasn't good enough for you." "Samantha, I am not prepared to have this conversation..." "Oh! I'm so sorry! Did my existence momentarily inconvenience your schedule? It's too bad, because this conversation is happening now whether you want it to or not." I watched her, awed by the sharp steel edge in her voice. "Are you drunk?" he demanded. She lifted her chin, incensed. "Are you really going to try to insult and weasel your way out of this by attacking me, Mark? Why not just admit to it. Admit to all the girls you were fucking on the side! Save us both the trouble. Be a man, for once in your sorry little life!" He advanced on her in a manner I did not like at all, and leaned over her, clenching his fists. I watched her face go pale, watched her hunch her shoulders slightly... "Hey!" I shouted as I scrambled to my feet. They both jerked and swung to face me; Sam shook her head frantically and mouthed "No!". I ignored her, and tried to clasp the blanket around myself to preserve a bit of modesty. "Who in blazes are you?" he demanded as he stared at me. "The witness who's watching you try to intimidate your wife," I retorted.

"Are you fucking serious? Are you... are you fucking this woman!" he shouted at Sam. "In my house? Under my roof?" Sam lost her temper. "Yes, I'm fucking that wonderful woman!" she shouted back at him. "I'm fucking her up, down, sideways, inside and outside, backwards and forwards, in all the wonderful ways that you never deigned to show me while you were sleeping around, you lying, womanising pile of philandering baggage! How long was it, Mark! Were you fucking other women on the sly before I was pregnant? Or was it just once I got too fat for you?" "After all I've done, this is how you thank me!" he roared. And my lover graduated from furious to incandescent without touching any point in between. "All you've done? All you've done! How much have you done, mister ooh-what-a-nice-suit-I'm-wearing? When last did you check on your daughter, you gangly, self-absorbed fuck? When last did you check on me? When last did you give either of us the time of day? Never, that's when! You're almost never here! And when you are here you're on calls, or "working", or networking, or spending your time on... on your vinyl or wine or your fucking suits! You never have time for us. Never. Fuck you! You may own this fucking museum to your ego but you do not live here. I do. Beth does. And we've had to manage without you for years! So don't you dare swan in here and try to stand on the moral high ground! Fuck off back to your hotel suite and your rancid little Mancunian slut and don't ever, ever presume to talk to me again unless it is to lay out the terms of the divorce. We're done. Done, Mark! I have screenshots, and transcripts, and they are lodged with someone you will never, ever be able to find or intimidate! So, frankly, you can fuck the fuck off and when you get there, you can go right on and fuckity-fuck right off again! Got it? Or do I need to write it out for you in smaller words?" "This is not over, you ungrateful, unfaithful little bitch," he snarled at her. He turned to face me and pointed an accusing finger my way. "And as for you, you... you harpy, I hope you're happy!" I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Nothing good would come of responding. Sam had pretty much covered all all the relevant points, anyway.

He took a breath, spun back to Sam once more. "Move your shit out of my room," he said, with a slow, unsettling intonation. "I already did, months ago," she retorted. "And that shows precisely how present you are in this sorry bloody marriage. Enjoy the en suite. Maybe you can go wash some of that reek of other women's diseased minge off of you while you're at it. I changed the linen for you. You're welcome, fucker," she added venomously, underlining her scorn with a mocking little curtsey. He let out some sort of strangled animal howl and stalked off. "Jesus Christ," I breathed, once his footsteps had faded. She let out a shaky breath and staggered; I dashed to her and pulled her into my arms. "Sam? Sam! Are you okay?" She was shivering; skin as cold and pale as mist. "Oh fuck me, that was scary," she whispered. "I've never seen him that angry." "Does he do that often?" "Shout? Yes. But... never like that." The hairs on my neck suddenly stood up. The words she'd said sounded... wrong. "Lets get dressed and go," I begged her. "Please, Sam, lets get out of here until he's... cooled down. I want to go now, Sam. Please." "But... where will we go?" "My place. It's tiny and cluttered but my flatmates are awesome and Pete's a rugby player. We'll be safe there. "Okay. Okay, sweetie. Just breathe. Come. Lets get our things." We scuttled back to the bedroom and fumbled our clothes on - I didn't even bother with my underwear, I just stuffed them back into my

weekend bag and snatched it up. Sam bundled some essentials and a change of clothes into her daypack. She peered out through the door; loud music was blaring from somewhere upstairs. "He's put his noise on. Let's disappear before he notices and comes back for seconds." She snatched up her keys from the kitchen counter and opened the front door for me; we tottered down the gravel to Bertha and threw our things onto the back seat. Sam dashed round to the driver's side; I started to close the rear door. But then I saw a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. I turned. Sam's husband was standing in the doorway, staring at me. He was holding a cricket bat. "Sam," I said, as I went cold with terror. "Sam, he's got a bat. Sam!" "Get in the car!" she screamed as she slammed the driver's door closed behind her. I fumbled at my handle as her enraged husband charged down the gravel towards us. Bertha's engine clattered into life. Pebbles skittered and sprayed as Sam floored the accelerator. And the rear window glass gave a ear-splitting crack and frosted over with a newly-formed spiderweb of fractures as he connected with the only blow he managed to land before we fishtailed down the drive and out onto the road outside. I fought, panting and gasping, trying in my panic to get the seat belt fastened; Sam was pale-faced, hunched forward and staring forward through the windscreen as the speedo surged upwards. "Slow down!" I screamed, in mortal fear of my life as we screeched around a corner more sideways than straight. "Not yet, we need the head start!"

She negotiated a nail-clenching sequence of sharp corners; I clung to anything I could and stared at her in awe as I realised that my girl could drive. "Big Ash. Big rock. Signpost. Junction to Tigg's place. Elm. Second Elm. Hedge. There. There! Hang on, Willa," she suddenly shouted, "we're going off-road." She braked hard, and I screamed again as she spun the steering wheel to the right and sent Bertha sliding and careening through a gap in a hedge and down a narrow path that barely looked wide enough to permit a dog. Leaves and branches squealed and scraped along the sides of the car; she winced, then flicked off the lights and let momentum carry us forward into the lane guided only by what faint moonlight there was. "He's going to get in his car and try to chase us," she said in a shaky voice, speaking over the sound of the destruction going on outside. "I just know it. This is an unmarked path, and he will get stuck very quickly if he even notices it and thinks we've taken it. But the main road forks a mile or two on from where we turned and one branch heads towards Horsham; there's a police station there he might think we're heading for. I hope he takes that road, it will take him at least a quarter of an hour even in the Jag. We'll be long gone by the time he thinks of alternates..." "I think I actually wet myself this time," I said, voice all weak and shaky. "You're not alone. Oh fuck, oh fuck me, I'm so glad Beth wasn't home this week. Oh... oh fuck..." She retched, slammed on the brakes, and forced her door open wide enough so that she could be violently ill. "Sorry," she panted, when she was done. "Sorry. I've never been that scared. I've never seen him that way." I handed her a half-finished bottle of water from the passenger door's shelf; she rinsed her mouth and spat, then slumped back into her seat. I reached out and clutched her hand. "Sorry," she whispered again. "Oh fuck me, Willa, I'm so sorry for involving you in my little psychodrama." I stared across at her pale face and dishevelled hair and inside-outshirt...

She was incredible. And indomitable. And mine. "I love you," I said. "What did you just say?" she breathed, eyes widening. "Your psycho murder-husband is out prowling the countryside with a cricket bat and God knows whatever other weapons he has managed to find. We have a handbag and a suitcase and our wits to defend ourselves with. In short, we're absolutely fucked. So I'm letting you know. Just so you know. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else ever." She stared at me for a moment. And then she started to giggle, and her giggles were infectious because soon enough both of us were laughing so hard we were crying. "Oh, Willa," she panted, as she desperately tried to regain control. "Oh my God, I love you so much." "Mortal Peril is now upon us," I gasped in between my wheezes. "We've confessed our mutual admiration for how amazing we both are. We shall shag like bunnies in a bit, but for now can we please just get the fucking fuck out of here?" Still giggling, she closed her door and eased us back into motion, and we scraped and bumped our way along what barely rated as a cow track until we emerged onto another narrow lane. "This one leads over into the next valley and from there we can get to Cranleigh," she said. She wiped her eyes and gave me a fierce grin. "You're amazing yourself, you know. Standing up for me like that. God my heart wants to burst I'm so proud of you." "He's a violent prick. I know his type. Fucking power-drunk bully in a nice suit. No way was I going to let him touch you. And speaking of amazing, you faced him down starkers. Holy hell, Sam, you're such an awesome woman." She reached out and put her hand on my leg, quite high up, and I covered it with my own and squeezed it.

"Thanks for being there for me," she said. "This time and all the times before it." And I shifted her hand to the warm vee of my crotch and kept it there, close to me, until we'd parked outside my house, and I'd called Pete, and told him I needed him to come make sure we got in okay. .:. Pete and Marius welcomed Sam like a long-lost sister and Pete (being Pete) immediately broke out the spare duvet and wrapped it around her shoulders. They listened wide-eyed as I gave them an only-slightly-embellished account of our evening; Sam simply sat, pressed in against me, shivering and drinking the wine Marius had poured for her. I kept my hand on her leg; a steady reminder that we were okay. Very soon she put her wine aside and simply pulled her legs up against herself as she curled in against me and hid her face in my neck; I caught Marius and Pete's shared look but said nothing as I gently wrapped my arm around her and held her to me. At last I finished, and the boys sat back. Pete whistled; Marius shook his head. "A cricket bat," Marius said. "That goat-fucking fucker." "Have you called the police?" Pete demanded. "Not yet." Sam shifted against me and sighed. "I... we needed to be somewhere safe first. Thank you for this." "You need to report it so they can find him before he has time to concoct some wild-arse tale. Like how you tried to run him over by reversing at him." She raised her head far enough to give him a bleak look. "He has expensive lawyers and a lot of free capital, I have the clothes I'm wearing. I can't touch him." Pete frowned. Then he shook his head and sighed. "I'm too simple for this level of nastiness." Marius turned and regarded his partner with an amused grin. "You just flatten them on the rugby pitch."

"As I said, I'm a simple man," Pete muttered. "Willa, are you okay?" "Yeah. I was... more scared for Sam than for me. He was fucking livid with her; I was just a... convenient target of opportunity." "He's never been that angry before," Sam murmured. "He's usually just shouty. That's the first time he's got... physical. I wonder... I wonder what's going on. Something must be up at work." "Or... maybe he was just jealous that you got to see our Willa in her birthday suit and he didn't," Marius said with a grin. "Marius!" I laughed. "She is rather nice, isn't she," my lover said in that deadpan way she had. I flushed. "Have you girls eaten yet?" said Pete. Sam snorted and Marius choked down his laughter. "Oh for fuck's sakes, you two," Pete sighed. He waved his hand vaguely. "I meant food. Not... treats. Are you hungry?" he added, slowly and deliberately as if speaking to idiots. "Are you cooking?" I asked him. "I might, if you ask nicely," he said with a grin. "I can whip us up something. Samantha..." "Sam, please," she said. "Just Sam." "Sam, then, do we need to do something about your car? Is the window intact enough for tonight?" "Bertha's a tough old bird; she'll be okay for now. The rear window's completely wrecked but everything else is okay. Might need a respray but that can wait." "Right then. Marius, come give me a hand, you lazy sod." "I'll give you more than a hand if you carry on like that," Marius drawled. He gave us a wink and sauntered after his partner. I glanced down at Sam.

"Are you okay?" I whispered to her. "No. I'm still really shaken. But... but being here is helping. Being with you is helping more than anything. I... I will have to ask for the police to go back with me when I go home." "Get his shady arse chucked out while you're at it," I demanded. "Make him fuck off." She sighed. "I need to work out how to untangle this mess." "What's there to untangle? Cut yourself loose from all of it." "But... Beth. My life. My... obligations." "Beth's an incredibly switched-on girl, Sam. She knows something's up between you and her dad, she knows divorce pretty much a given at this stage. She just doesn't care what happens so long as she has you." "How can you be so sure?" she demanded. I stroked her hair back out of her eyes. "Because she told me so," I answered her. "What? How? Bethany almost never talks about her own feelings..." "She does with me," I said, gently. "I guess she views me as a... big sister of sorts." "Oh," Sam breathed. She folded up against me and I felt rather than heard the little sob she gave. "Some kind of a mum I am," she whispered. "My own daughter won't even..." "Hey. No. You're awesome. You're totally awesome. You do everything. She knows that and loves you utterly and completely for it. Don't take this as a fault. Be proud that she knows how to reach out." "She should want to... reach out to me..."

Her hands clenched and released on me; her old, old tell that she was close to breaking. "Sometimes these things take time," I comforted her as I gently kissed her brow. "Give it time. You have time. You have all the time in the world now. She's going nowhere. And neither am I." And then I just held her to me and let her be for the brief period that she needed. Once she was done, Marius snuck back in with some tissues for her. And he and Pete fed us and hovered over the two of us until I finally managed to convince her to come to bed with me. It was a long and uncomfortable night for both of us on my small single, but she at least managed to fall asleep, cradled tightly in my arms. I, on the other hand, lay awake into the small hours. Worrying. .:. The morning dawned damp and grey. Sam poked listlessly at her toast and bacon; she was dull-eyed and exhausted, but she managed a smile for me when I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her in against me. "I need to go to the police station, I guess," she grumbled. "I can't imagine anywhere I'd less rather be on a Sunday morning." "Want me to come with?" I said. "No, don't be silly. No point in both of us wasting our morning. Stay. Rest up. You can be my stress ball later." Marius laughed. "I like this one, Wills," he said. "Better get used to me," she retorted, with a small smile. "I plan on sticking around." He gave her a double thumbs up and went back to his eggs. I made her a thermos of coffee and walked her down to her car.

"Phone me when you get there and phone me again when you're done," I demanded. "I will." "And drive safe, please..." "I will." She kissed me and hugged me so tightly that I squeaked. "Go back inside, it's cold and miserable. Stay warm for me." "Will I see you later?" "Definitely," she breathed. "I'll see you soon." "I miss you already," I said, pretending to pout. "Oh, Willa," she grinned. "Don't be so needlessly dramatic." I stood, huddling into my thin indoor jumper against the wind and rain, waiting patiently as she climbed into her car. Then I sighed and climbed the worn concrete steps back up to our house. "You okay?" Pete asked as I slunk into the kitchen. "No. I'm fucking exhausted. Didn't sleep much at all I was so wired. What can I help with?" "Keep me company while I do the dishes?" he said, hopefully. I leaned in to hug my towering, reliable and soft-hearted brother from another mother. "So what do you think of her?" I said. I perched myself on our counter top and waited. "Does she pass muster?" "She just might," he answered as he put a pot aside. "But I kind of think it's irrelevant, Wills. Because unless I'm reading the signs wrong you're head over heels for her. You are, aren't you?" I frowned and looked away, sighing. "Yes," I admitted.

"Then what I think shouldn't matter. For what it's worth, though, she's really sweet, really funny and really, really hot." "Yeah," I sighed wistfully. "Yeah, she is." "We like her." he said. "But... how're you going to deal with the complications that she comes with, Wills?" "It's too late to worry about that, babe. I'm all in on her. There's no escape for me from this one. I... I just really hope to fuck it's not a mistake, and that she doesn't grow... tired of me." "Well then," he said softly. "I guess I'd better find a fourth chair for our table. It will be nice to have another hand for Rummy." "You and Marius really are the second best thing ever to happen to me." "Second... no, no just hold on, hang on a mo. We were the best thing. I remember you saying that, clear as daylight." "You got demoted," I said. I grinned up at him. "You little rug-munching so-and-so," he laughed. "That's the last time I make cheesecake for you." "Good. It goes straight to my bum. I need to lose a bit of weight. I need to stay fit and... fit." "I really doubt she would care, Willa. Not given the way that woman looks at you." "She might not. But I do." .:. The weather had deteriorated further outside so the boys and I settled down for a degenerate day of books and bad telly. It was early afternoon before she finally phoned me. "Hey, you," I said, as I stood up and carried her with me to the kitchen. "I was getting worried." "It's been an entertaining day," she said. "But I was victorious in the end. Two lovely men in uniform escorted me back to the house and had a

rather direct and pointed conversation with Mark while I packed a big bag of clothes and necessities and got the hell out of there." "I'm really relieved to hear that; I was worried for you. I'll put some extra bedding on my bed for us, I know you were cold last night..." "Willa... I've... I've checked into a room at the March Rider's Arms. I was phoning to tell you. Your bed's... well, it's far too small for both of us, sweetie." "Oh," I said, softly. "So you're... not coming back here?" "Well, I'm on my way back to you now, but... hopefully only long enough to load you up and take you with me." "... oh." I squeaked, suddenly blushing. "I... I had this horrible thought..." "What... that I wanted to be in a strange room in a strange place all by myself on Sunday night? Willa, are you deranged?" "Some people think I am..." "Willa!" she griped, despairing. "You need to get over yourself! You need to get over this fear you have that... that I'm going to cut and run from you. I couldn't. I couldn't ever. Don't you see? Don't you get it yet? You're... you're one of the two best things in my life! How could I want to be anywhere else but in your arms tonight? How is that even something you feel you have to question?" I dug my nails into my thigh and tried to count to three. "Willa? Are you still there?" "Trying not to blub," I gulped, at last. "Oh, my love," she said softly. "Just breathe. I'm... I'm about ten minutes away. Move that lovely rump of yours and start packing, will you? The room has an en-suite with a nice deep bath. I think we both deserve one after the last twenty four hours. And I'll rub your shoulders for you too." "I'll... I'll get started." "See you now." She hung up; I sniffed and walked distractedly back to the boys. "You okay, Willa?" said Pete, eyeing me with concern. "You look..."

"Um... I... think so... I just... I need to pack." "Pack?" said Marius. "Why? Where are you going?" "To... to a rather nice hotel, I think..." "In the company of the lovely and delectable Samantha?" "Yeah," I said, distractedly. "I think I'm in love with Sam," Marius stage-whispered to Pete. "Get in line," Pete growled. "I'm in love with her first. Willa, do you want to borrow a kit bag? It will be far easier to manage than that awful suitcase of yours." "Um... that... that would be grand, yeah," I managed. And then I simply sat there for a moment, trying to digest what she'd said to me. Packing was easy; tomorrow would be a work day, so I dug out my bright primary blue skirt and a selection of tee shirts. I folded two thin cardigans and a peddler's grab-bag of underwear and added them to Pete's bag. I added some thin socks and a pair of tights in case it was cold. I had no toiletries; they'd been abandoned in Sam's bathroom during our escape. Sam arrived and Pete ushered her to our living area and made her a coffee while I packed the last few things I'd need. "Hey," I breathlessly greeted her as I closed my bedroom door on the chaos within. "Hey yourself. Are you good to go?" "Yeah." "Right," she said. "Bye Pete. Bye Marius. Be wicked." "I really love her," Marius told his partner, and Sam grinned at him. Then she took my hand and dragged me away. .:. "I could get used to this," I groaned.

"Lean forward. Let me rub your shoulders a bit more. Want some more hot water?" "Oh my word this is so nice..." "Yes. It's a nice set of rooms. Clean, neat, and most importantly to me right now it's safe and anonymous. It has a balcony, by the way. I paid extra for that, I thought it might be nice for breakfast... oh... oh my goodness, Willa, that muscle is locked up tight..." "Uh... huh..." I drooled. "It's... been a stressful weekend..." "Willa, don't you dare fall asleep on me." "I... I can't help it; you melt me, you make me feel so warm and fuzzy..." "Yes, well, likewise, but I'm not strong enough to lift you out of the tub if you start snoring, sweetheart." "Spoilsport." She laughed at that, and leaned in to kiss my neck. "Mm," I whispered, squirming. "Oh, oh God, your kisses are to die for." "Stop flirting," she said, tartly. "Or else what." "Or else...this..." She let go of me, and I heard various interesting noises that indicated that her remaining items of clothing were being removed and discarded. "Right," she announced. "This is your fault. Move forward and make space, because I'm coming in there with you. To support you. Morally." "I have no morals where you are concerned." "I know that," she said, sounding insufferably pleased. She stepped daintily into the tub behind me, and slowly lowered herself into the water, slipping her slender legs between me and the side of the bathtub. Water began to run through the overflow - a merry gurgling that somehow set me giggling. "You are completely crackers," she said as she settled.

"I did warn you. I'm fucking knackered. So... I'm about three times worse, I guess. Borderline hysterical." She put her arms around me and pulled me back against her. "Relax," she whispered. "I've got you. And... Willa, honestly, tell those nipples of yours to go to sleep for now. They're very distracting when they get all... hard... like that." "Sorry. I told you. Everything's three times worse. And I do mean everything. Oh God you feel good..." "Mm," she said, as she ran her hands slowly over me. "So. Want to hear a funny story?" "About..." "Well... I suppose it's not really all that funny. But... I want to tell it to you anyway." "So tell me already." "Mark's mother phoned me earlier." "Oh. Fuck. Your mum in law?" "I suppose. Anyway... she phoned to accuse me of being an homewrecker and an adulteress and a lesbian slut. Not that she used the final word; she's entirely too upper class to be so crude. I did find the term lesbian funny though. And... strangely validating, really." "Right. Well. I hope you tore her a new arsehole in your rebuttal." "That's a very graphic and needlessly profane phrase. And yes... I rather think I did." I loved how deadpan she could be. "So what did you do?" "I gave her an itemised list of every cruel and hurtful thing he's done in the last couple of years, and a description of the nethers of every woman that I have proof he's slept with thanks to all those photos and videos he kept. She tried several times to get a word in... but I had quite a bit of momentum built up so she didn't really have much luck. She was

apologising by the end of it. I think it's every mother's worst nightmare when their child turns out to be..." "A lying, womanising pile of philandering baggage was the term you used," I said. I smiled smugly, proud of myself for remembering. "Quite." "You're right, though, that wasn't a very funny story. You tell shit stories. Boo." She snorted, and squeezed me back against her. "At least I get to end my day like this," she sighed. "Warm and wet and pressed up against you." "Mhmm. Lesbian slut." "Oh shush, you." I reclined against her for a while, mulling. Then I took a breath. "Sam?" I said. "Yes?" "I'm sorry for making you into an adulteress. I'm sorry for wrecking your life..." "Willa, stop. Please. You haven't wrecked my life. You've given it back to me." "Oh." "God, woman, stop agonizing over it. I'm an adult. I accepted the consequences when I decided that I was going to... to fling myself at you. Sure, having Mark turn into a psycho wasn't... ideal. But, you know what, I'm... I'm okay. I'm okay because I have you. So, please, just stop. Just stop worrying. You, Beth and I will all be fine." "Okay." "Just enjoy being in my arms for a bit." "I always do," I whispered. "Ever since that very first time you hugged me. It's my favourite place. Close second is anywhere I get to stare at your bum."

She snorted and kissed me just behind the ear. "You always did seem to be looking at me," she replied. "It was... sweet. And... a little bit intriguing, I'll admit." "Couldn't help it. You're utterly my type," I said. "Wash me?" I added, hopefully. "Only because you're my type," she said, as she reached for the body wash. "Lean forward. Let me clean those lovely boobs of yours." "Sam. Those are my nipples," I protested, after a while. "They're part of your boobs. Now shush." "That's not my boobs either," I whimpered, a little bit later. "No, but it is one of my favourite parts of you," she breathed. "It also needs care and attention. I can always stop if you'd prefer..." "No! No. Don't tease me like that. You know I hate it when you... uhn... Sam... that's delicious..." "You're delicious. Spread your legs a bit more and... and tell me if it gets uncomfortable..." I leaned back against her, enjoying the way her arm moved against my hip as she gently stroked around my clit. "You're so good at that," I groaned. "So good. It's probably illegal how good you are..." I squeezed my eyes closed, concentrating on the feeling of her fingertip on and around me. I raised my hands to my breasts; began to pinch and twist my nipples almost to the point of pain. My hip and thigh muscles quivered. "Sam," I whimpered. "I love this. I love this with you..." "Wish I was between your legs," she panted. "With my tongue and fingers. We should buy a toy or two..." I moaned in agreement, tried to spread my twitching legs further for her. "Put it in me," I begged. "Finger. In."

"Too much soap. I'll hurt you. Again just now. Promise," she whimpered. I moaned in short-lived disappointment; I could feel her own breasts and nipples firm against my back, I could imagine the moisture that would have under other circumstances been beading on her lips, the pink flush that built on her throat and mons and inner thighs when she was aroused, the little jagged breaths she'd take as I penetrated her with my finger, or when I teased my tongue along her wonderful lips... My belly clenched; I gasped a breath. "You're close, I can tell," she growled, throaty and deep. "God, I get so horny when you're close. I want to climb on you and sit on your face and have you lick me until I turn inside out..." I groaned, long and low. My leg spasmed out straight and I started to writhe against her hand which was now clamped between my thighs. And then - a long, run on chain of grunting shivering gasps that sent water slopping out over the lip of the bath and soaked the towel she'd placed there so carefully for me. She laughed, exultant, and clutched me to her as my contractions slowed and eased. I made some sort of stupid boneless noise as I flopped down against her. "I like this bath," she whispered into my ear. She closed her arms around me and held me to her. "Maybe some day we can have one like this." And I moaned a quiet little noise that meant "Yes please," but somehow didn't quite make it all the way there. .:. Her phone began to ring as she was towelling her hair dry. She made a face and stood up from the stool she'd been perching on and wandered over to glance disinterestedly at the screen. I watched her from my lethargic little blanket cocoon... then rose up on my elbow as she put her hand to her mouth in shock. "Sam? What is it?" "It's Mark's father," she said softly. "Fuck. Sorry. I've got to take this."

"What! Why!" I exclaimed. She put her finger to her lips and picked up her phone. "Hello? Sir Malcolm?" ... Sir Malcolm, I mouthed, stunned. Well... Fuck. No wonder she'd said her in-laws were wealthy but never gone into the details. Malcolm Spalding owned a significant part of Surrey... "Yes," she answered guardedly. "Yes, that's right. I... Sir Malcolm, please first let me say how sorry I am for how rude and crass I was to Lady Spalding earlier..." I mouthed "What?" at her and gesticulated a bit. She touched her finger to her lips again, gave me a glare, and fiddled with her phone. Suddenly a warm, weathered, urbane voice rang forth. "... boy always had a touch of the Devil in him. I've told his mother that many times before but you know how mothers are - the boy can do no wrong. Well, and so we learn. Are you and Bethany safe and well, my dear?" "Beth was at school, Sir Malcolm, and I'm quite fine, thank you. Now at least. The event itself was... taxing." "I can well imagine." He sounded like a favourite grandfather, I thought to myself. So out of keeping with his pinch-penny reputation with his tenants... and the tradesmen we supplied who'd done jobs for him. "I have had a conversation with Mark, Samantha," he said. "I've let him know precisely and in exacting detail just how very vexed I am. I believe I adequately expressed the... depths... of my displeasure. I suppose, Samantha, that a reconciliation is out of the question?" "I rather think that ship has sailed, Sir Malcolm," my lover said, tall and proud as Dido.

"Sadly, I thought it might have," he said. "But you of course understand that I had to ask." "I do." The old man sighed. "Well now. Samantha, do you have a satisfactory place to stay?" "Yes, Sir Malcolm. I have rooms at a local hotel, though I haven't thought any further..." "Which hotel, my dear?" "The March Rider." "Ah. Yes. I suppose that is all well and good and needs must, but I don't suppose I could tempt you with a more permanent... arrangement?" Sam shot me a glance. "What are you proposing?" "It is as follows: a farm I own near Loxwood has recently become vacant; the tenant is deceased and the nearest kin have indicated they do not wish to take over the tenancy. Lady Spalding and I had a mind to do the farmhouse itself up and let it out as a short-term holiday accommodation for well-heeled tourists down from London, but after thinking on the current... situation that you find yourself in... I would far rather that you take possession of it so that you and Bethany have somewhere comfortable that is a home rather than lodgings." Sam gave me a wide eyed look. "That... is extremely generous, Sir Malcolm... " "There are, however, some terms that I feel I shall need to insist on." Sam rolled her eyes; I covered my mouth to suppress the urge to giggle. "Please state your terms, Sir Malcolm." "Firstly, I want Bethany to continue to visit us. Lady Spalding and I love the girl - and you too, by the by - and were would be terribly sad to... fall out of touch... because of the behaviour of that reprobate son of mine. Secondly - I understand this is a sensitive subject, but I still regard you as family and I will continue to do so even when you eventually see reason and divorce that adulterous husband of yours. Therefore, Samantha, the cottage would come with a generous stipend. Officially it

would be a salary; I will have Mr Simms draw up some form of contract that requires you to maintain the cottage and outbuildings in good order etcetera and I will in turn cover all reasonable expenses and see to the running of the farm itself. Privately between you and me, my dear, I desire to do this because I suspect my son will not do the right thing by you and Bethany. You will forgive an old and jaded man his indulgences, will you?" Sam bit her lip hard; I could see she was shocked by his honesty. "This is... very unexpected," she whispered. "You are and have always been extremely kind to both Lady Spalding and me. We are very fond of you. And Bethany is the light of our lives." He cleared his throat. "Samantha, I have only two more conditions." "Name them," she whispered. "Firstly, I would ask that you don't go whispering to the Press about Mark. Not because I don't believe he deserves to be dragged over the coals, he most certainly does, but... it would be distressing. For all of us. It is a sordid thing to ask but I think that once you think on it you will realise that it is for the best." "I have no desire to speak to the Press. On that you have my word." Sam took a breath. "What is your final condition, Sir Malcolm?" "I want you to be happy, Samantha." "Oh," she said, stunned. "Life is far too short to leave it unlived. I cannot change my son. I can, however, limit his malign influence over you. I will ensure that he leaves you and Bethany alone, bar that unfortunate legal involvement that is required - school fees, living expenses etcetera. I will cut him off entirely if he fails either of us in this." He paused. "Are my terms acceptable to you, Samantha? I do not believe they are particularly... onerous."

"Why..." she began She coughed, started again. "Why are you... being so kind and so very generous to me?" The silence stretched out. Then the old man sighed. "Tell me, Samantha. Do you know anything about Lily?" "Lily?" Sam repeated. "I don't, I'm afraid. Who is that?" "Lily was my elder sister. She, too, was in love with a woman." Sam's eyes widened and she stared at me. "Unlike you, though, she lived in a less... permissive... era and was forced into marriage for appearances. She took her own life a few brief, grievous years later. I was seventeen. I could not do a thing to help her. I can, however, do something to help you." I shivered; Sam's mouth fell open in shock. "Oh. Oh my God. I'm so sorry. Mark never... I didn't know...I'm so sorry..." "It's years ago, now, my girl. Water long, long under the bridge and out to the all-embracing sea. So..." He went silent, the phone cracked for a moment. "Damn and blast this dust," he muttered, voice strangely thick. "Samantha, I would appreciate it greatly if you could stop by the house tomorrow morning. I will ensure that there are some keys ready for you; Margaret will want to hand them over herself and, I suspect, make her own apology to you. As she should." "Sir Malcolm... I can't..." "You can, and you must. I cannot accept no for an answer, Samantha. You are the nearest thing to a daughter that I will ever have, and I will always think of you as such. Besides, my dear, it's not pure altruism, you see - you'll be sparing me a significant amount of money and no small amount of irritation to boot. I detest having anything to do with the local tradesmen, they are not reliable men, and my usual man is, sadly, committed elsewhere."

I made a face but had to admit he probably had a point there. "I suspect you'll approve of the farmhouse in its current state. And that you will find it a warmer and... more accepting place than that... glass monstrosity with which my son ruined the western parkland. But I am rambling now, and you no doubt have things of your own to do. So, with that, my dear - adieu. We shall see you tomorrow." "Good evening, Sir Malcolm. And... thank you! Thank you so much!" "Please, my dear, don't mention it." The phone clicked. Sam's handset fell from her fingers and plopped onto the duvet. "Holy fuck," I breathed. "I thought my role was to be the knight in shining armour. And I just got schooled in spades. Wow." She slowly sank down onto the bed. "Sam? Hey, love, are you okay?" She shook her head as if trying to dislodge something. "This feels... utterly unreal," she murmured. "There's just no way all this could have just resolved itself so completely and so neatly. I don't... I don't know what to think. I honestly hadn't thought any further than... than tonight... and I was anticipating some huge, horrid drawn out process where I got dragged through the mud for months on end. He's... he's just made it all go away. All of it." "He... clearly likes you. It's so bizarre. Everyone I know hates him because he's apparently such an exacting and tight-fisted landlord..." "I know his reputation, but he's actually a... a really decent and... and lovely old man, once you get to know him." "Why didn't you ever tell me that you were one of those Spaldings?" "Because I'm not," she protested, flushing. "I'm just some daft girl who married one of them. And it's not like they're hereditary peers or anything." "You still should have told me."

"Look. I... I just didn't want things to get weird. It's not the sort of thing you trot out when you meet someone, is it? And then... later... it... it just didn't seem to come up, and I didn't want to... to talk about Mark and his family. Not really. Does it... matter?" she said, as she looked up at me. I knew her well enough to know that she was worried that it would. I thought about it for a moment. It didn't. Not really. Not much at all. "No," I decided. "And it won't ever. You're the you I love. Nothing less. Are you going to take him up on it?" "Do... do you think I should?" "You'd have a home of your own. Space of your own. A safe place for you and Beth." "For a while..." "We'll cross that bridge when we have to." I reached out and took her hand. "Hey," I added. "Look at it this way you got your wish." "What wish?" "For... a cottage out in the countryside." "Oh. Right. I forgot," she said with a strange little smile. "Anyway, that stopped being my wish long ago." "Oh," I said softly. "I thought it was quite a nice wish, all things considered." "Oh, it was quite lovely and innocent, as far as wishes go..." she breathed, as she reached out to gently touch my cheek. "But I think my new one is better." .:. I pulled my small weekend suitcase out of the taxi that Sam had ordered for me and closed the door behind me. I listened with half an ear as it clattered and rumbled off into the gathering dusk. I took a moment to just breathe.

It was Friday evening, and I hadn't seen Sam since she'd dropped me off on Monday morning and gone to fetch the cottage keys. Cottage, he'd called it. Cottage. I shook my head. It was a wonderful old red brick house - double-storied - with climbing roses well-established on the south-facing walls. A wisp of smoke curled upwards from the tall brickwork chimney; I could smell the faint whiff of woodsmoke on the evening air. A pre-Sam me would have unironically called it a "sodding great mansion." "Highwood", proclaimed the little white sign on the gate. Beneath it was the embossed oak leaf motif of Surrey. I looked up the short flagstone path that wound through small patches of flowering shrubs. Everything looked neat and utterly lovely. It felt like a wonderful place. I lifted my luggage and fumbled my way through the gate. I passed by Bertha - parked at a jaunty angle on a small patch of grass, one wheel fondling a disused flowerbed. Warm lights glimmered beyond the cottage pane windows; as I drew nearer I could see into the homely kitchen. My breath caught in my throat as Sam passed by the window, busy with something. I suddenly realised just how much I'd missed her. She looked up from whatever she was doing as I stumbled across the column of light that the kitchen cast out into the darkness. She stared out at me for a moment, then flung down a dishcloth and dashed off. I took a step towards the door.

And another step. And then the front door of the farmhouse burst open and I was in her arms; she was shuddering, hair a disordered scarlet mess in the the glow from her small hallway; light painting a little pathway of golden illumination around us and onwards into the evening shadow. I dropped my suitcase and embraced her. She panted little jagged gasps as she tried to get words out. I pulled back slightly, and kissed her cheeks again and again. She took a slow, shaky breath. "You're here. At last." "I'm... here," I answered, when I could speak. "I missed you. Oh God I missed you. It's stupid. I know it's stupid. I know it was just a couple of days. But I've missed you so much. Come. Come and see our home, Willa. Come home with me." And she kissed me once more, and turned, and dragged me over the threshold. "Beth? Beth!" she called. "She's here! Look who's here at last!" "Beth's here?" I whispered. "Is it Willa?" shrieked Beth from elsewhere. "Is she here to stay?" "For a bit, Beth," I called, choking down the sudden lump in my throat. But I was quite unable to control myself as Sam's little girl came charging through like a greyhound and leaped directly into my arms. She wrapped herself around me; a squealing, gangly cloak of unfeigned, unfiltered joy. "Hello, pet," I breathed, sniffing stupidly and blinking away the tears as Sam wrapped her arms around both of us. "Are you here to stay forever?" Beth demanded. "With mummy and me? With us? Are you? Are you? Please, say yes!" "Mostly, I hope," Sam said softly to us both. "But she'll have to go to work sometimes."

"So long as she comes home to us," Beth declared. She buried her face in my hair again and latched on like a limpet for a few more wonderful moments. "Does she... know?" I asked, heart aching in the most perfect way. "Yes," Sam answered after a brief pause, her voice all strange and choked up. "She asked me directly whether you were my girlfriend when I went to fetch her. I told her that you were and that I loved you. And she's been like this ever since." And I put Beth down and took Sam in my arms and hugged her as tightly as I could as her daughter looked on, beaming. Beth brought me tissues and helped me dry my eyes. Then my girls took my hands and led me through to their carefullyprepared dinner table in front of the gently-smoking hearth fire and its aged and well-loved screen. "Welcome home, Willa," said Beth, grinning toothily up at me. "Welcome home, my love" whispered my beautiful, wonderful Sam, her eyes glinting with tears that were only just shy of falling. And then it was just a simple rustic supper with the two most precious people in my life. And later, very much later, I lay tangled in my sleeping lover's arms, watching the gentle motions of her slow, soft breathing in the silver moonlight; too tired to sleep just yet and heart too full of joy to ever want to wake. -:- Epilogue -:"Beth!" I called. "We need to leave. Mum's waiting in the car. Come on, sweetie, it's time to go, you only turn eighteen once and we don't want to miss our ferry to Calais!" "Just grabbing my last few things" Bethany called from upstairs. I peered out through the doorway and caught Sam's eye; she was drumming her fingers theatrically on the steering wheel. She gesticulated - an amused what-the-fuck; I gave her a thumbs up. "She's on her way!" I called.

"Tell her to move her arse or I'm leaving without both of you!" Sam called back. "Our ferry leaves at two and if we're not there on time I'm going to kick both of you into the sea and you can swim to France under your own power!" "You'd never!" "I totally would!" she shouted, grinning. "Beth!" I called. "Come on, your mum's getting grumpy at us!" Footsteps clattered down the aged oak stairs and Beth appeared, so tall and and graceful now but still with that same special little grin that she reserved just for me. "Come on, mum," she said, smiling down at me. "Lock the door and lets get moving." I was still not used to the title, and she knew it and used it to great effect, the little miss. Not so little any more, part of me thought. And oh how very bittersweet that thought was. I fumbled with the keys, pulled the door closed and locked it. Then I gently touched the outside of Highwood's door. "See you soon," I whispered to our house - a silly habit that my girls always teased me about. Sam started to toy with Bertha's hooter; Beth grabbed my arm and yanked me after her. "Dibs on the back seat" she yelled. "How does that work?" I laughed. "Dibs is for the front, usually..." "Means I get to stretch my legs," she said. "And hide from you two lecherous old women." She clambered into the rear of Bertha, and I took the passenger seat. Sam raised her Ray-bans and gave me a significant look. "Are you sure you two haven't forgotten anything? Once we're there I'm not interested in hearing any complaints. This is my first sunny holiday in years and I will skin you both if you gripe about missing toothbrushes or lack of clean underwear."

"All correct and accounted for, mum," Beth chipped in from the back seat. "Wouldn't dream of complaining," I added innocently. "Right," Sam said. "Normandy awaits us, then. Let's go. Beth - seatbelt, please. Willa? Hand, please." Beth cackled as Sam took my hand and placed it high on her thigh like she always did. "I love you," I told her. "I love you right back," Sam said. "Oh will you get a room, you two," our daughter scolded us. I could hear the smile in her voice without needing to turn to look at her. And I sighed in perfect contentment as Sam laughed and eased us into motion. I was looking forward to our holiday. I was glad I would have my two favourite people with me. Behind us, Bethany began to sing "Scarborough Fair" quietly to herself. And all was right with the world.

The End

The Midnight Princess The sound of laughter and raised voices were what first roused me. I was basking in my usual place on the little protruding ledge of the agetumbled boulder in the shallows that I'd carefully smoothed and enlarged to catch the morning sun. I turned my head, yawned, and peered over my folded arms at the little arc of shoreline where the locals had brought white sand from the Ligurian Sea near Genoa and poured it into the lake to form a beautiful artificial beach. A group of young people were in the water; two men and three women, all in bathing costumes, though truthfully only charitably so in the case of the girls. The boys were showing off, chasing one another and pretending to wrestle while two of the girls screamed and laughed and egged them on. The third stood aside, watching the others with a wry smile. The deep maroon bottom of her two piece bathing suit kissed the water, her nightblack hair clung to her tanned olive skin in delightful, messy skeins. She shook her head, laughing loudly as one of the men tripped the other before losing his own footing and falling with an undignified splash. Then, still grinning, she turned and took a few careful steps out from the shallows before arching forward, letting her momentum carry her out into the deep sapphire stillness of the lake. I smiled sleepily. She was by far the most beautiful of the three. Oh, the others were nice, of course - a blonde and a brunette, both slender and tanned and with the willowy grace of youth, their breasts barelyrestrained behind flimsy excuses of fabric. Both were walking, breathing serenades to Aphrodite. But Midnight's daughter was the prize of the three, and I could already tell that I would adore her.

I yawned, pulled my legs up against me, and sat up, squinting under Helios's amused, golden stare. I scratched at an itch just below my right breast and yawned again, then slowly reached out to trail my fingers through the cool, placid water. It was warm today; calm and still, the mountains around me floating inverted on the crystal surface of Lake Iseo. Ripples spread outward over the mirror's face as the girl swam out from shore. She reached the Six Sisters - six glacier-fetched rocks that stood in an unlikely group on the lake floor almost within hands reach of me; two were tall enough to jut clear of the water. She climbed the gentler of the two and stood there for a moment, breathing. Then she bent forward and shook the water from her hair. I could see the depths had chilled her because her nipples showed through the wet sheath of her swimsuit top and goosebumps dappled her flanks and shoulders. She raised her arms carelessly behind her neck and gathered her shadowy hair behind her, heedless of the spectacle, revelling in her freedom and grinning at everything. "Dani! Daniella!" called her friends. "Come back to us, we're lonely!" She laughed and waved at them, and I gazed in naked, envious admiration and desire at the sun-bronzed curves of her perfect body. What a delightful creature she was. "Daniella," I whispered. I liked her name. It suited this lovely child of latter days. I stood and stretched upwards towards the zenith, then bent forward to touch my toes. She'd caught the movement and turned; she stared at me over the narrow stretch of water as I straightened. Her eyes had widened; she was no doubt surprised by my partial nudity. After all, all I was wearing was a pale, translucent linen skirt for modesty and nothing else, and even the skirt showed more than it hid. My small breasts jutted from my slender body, my nipples neat and proud under the kiss of wind and the brief delight of her gaze.

I smiled hesitantly at her. She fought some sort of brief, internal battle before she smiled back and gave me an amused shake of her head that set her glorious ringlets dancing about her face. Then she turned and dove back into the water. One of the six sisters jutted out further than people expected, I hoped she'd been careful... and then sighed, relieved. She had been. She broke the surface and began to swim a graceful, competent stroke back to where her friends were still cavorting and gaming in the turquoise shallows. She reached them and put her feet down, then turned back once more to give me a long, direct stare. I raised my hand and shyly waved to her, cautious of giving offence and closing this brief, unexpected moment of pleasure on a sour note. And she seemed to pause a moment; then she grinned and waved back. Ripples from her dive and swim had spread out over the lake; they kissed gently against my sun trap in passing. "Who is that?" I heard the brunette ask her, the sound of her breathless curiosity travelling clearly over the water. "A... woman. I don't know her," Midnight's daughter answered. "She's absolutely gorgeous, though - that blonde hair! Those legs! And she's very brave to be sunning herself like that around here with... so little on..." "Mm. Blonde, brave and confident - definitely your type, Dani," the brunette agreed with a giggle. Daniella laughed and elbowed her. My interest was immediately piqued. Could it be... The men had both turned to stare my way. Both were grinning, one waved at me; the blonde slapped his rump and laughed as he squealed. I turned away and self-consciously ran my fingers through my waterfall of pale hair. It was a long time since someone had called me beautiful. So long, in fact, that the word had almost lost its meaning. I'd resigned myself to my shrinking solitude, to my isolation, to my boundaries, to this slow procession of the years that would eventually close my final chapter.

I could feel the blush on my cheeks - another sensation that I'd almost forgotten. I knelt back down in the warm concave hollow that trapped the warmth at this time of the day, then settled onto my belly and let Helios's smile caress my back and thighs. But my busy, wakened mind couldn't let go of her. And so I watched in envy from afar as she and her friends lounged and sunbathed and simply spent their time with one another in the happy bliss of companionship, and I listened to their distant conversation, eavesdropping hungrily on the discussion of their jobs and their lives and their love lives or lack thereof and their relationships and all the other little minutiae of their busy, bright, rich days. Daniella was back from University in Bologna - here for the summer warmth and her family. Her friends had been elsewhere - the Diaspora, as the blonde laughingly called it. They'd all found work of sorts for the time they were back; Daniella was tending a wine bar at an upmarket if pretentious waterfront complex in Iseo on the south east shore. I knew it well; more built up than most of the rest of the lakeside, with bright lights and a little piazza where well-dressed couples would idle and stare out at the lights that glittered on the deep, purple-black water. Tonight would be her third night there, and so far, she said, it had been quiet. Boring, she called it. Dull. Devoid of any entertainment or even a pretty girl to admire. I caught the wistful glance she sent my way; the others teased her and threatened to come and pester her. And I bit my lip, intrigued, while she laughed and protested and threatened them with grave physical harm in return. She had a lovely laugh. I closed my eyes, listening to it; she laughed freely and often. I liked that. I missed laughter. And smiles, and warm embraces and gentle caresses... She returned to the waters again before the group packed up and left. She had a clear reverence to her movements - her steps, her swimming, the way she held her body all sang. She loved it here. She loved the

lake and the valley. The shadows and names of this place were written on her soul. Her brief, sun-kissed presence had thawed my long, unwanted winter. My mind was alive with desire, my heart panging bitterly for all the things I'd long considered better forgotten. I waited until the group had squeezed into their rusty white Fiat and driven off, then stretched and rose from my little nook in the living rock. Helios had turned his gaze to the slopes to the west. I stared across the placid indigo waters that stretched before me. And then I made my way carefully through the shallows and up the small slope to my home in the cave above the shore. I glanced at my little shelf of gifted or found books; my rounded pebble floor, my table and my simple bed. I opened the weathered whitewashed shutters that gentle, near-sighted old Valentino had carved and joined and fitted for me in the slow, simpler years before the Great War. I trailed a finger over the rough stones of the wall that screened and sheltered my cave, whose interior was lit (these days, anyway) by a single small oil lantern in a niche that I'd lined with recovered coins gently-polished Sestertii and Aureii that glowed gold and silver in the lamp's steady flame. And outside - my two olive trees, my pregnant grapevines; my higgledypiggledy neriums and - towering over all - the tall, stately descendant of one of the sacred Etruscan pines that I'd carried down from the crown of Monte Isola and planted in this spot, those many, many years ago. My sanctum. I touched my copy of Ovid's Metamorphoses, the green leather cover was now worn and tattered from age; it was my second-most-precious possession and I'd loved it since I'd found it left behind on a rock. The young couple who'd been reading from it in the early forties had found better uses for their time, and had forgotten it when they at length departed. I glanced at my heart-stone, nestled as always on my carefully-turneddown pillow. And then I stalked back outside, and sat on the small stone dais I'd built in slow, measured stages. It gave me a panoramic view of the sapphire waters below me, and had given me something to do.

Across the water lay the town of Iseo. Full of people - young and old, man and woman - all busy with their pretty little lives that blossomed and faded like the blossoms on my neriums... It had been an age since I'd had reason to go there. Watching people was entertaining, but my interest would pall soon enough, and melancholy would always return. So, often I found it less painful to simply avoid that which was no longer mine. But now, there was a woman that I desired enough to venture out once more. Daniella. I closed my eyes, summoned a vision of her tall, graceful legs, her long, strong arms. The dark hair, the ringlets, the rich hazel-brown of her eyes. The way water had beaded on to her skin. The way her costume had clung to her, leaving so little for my imagination to do to render her naked for me. In my mind, she smiled at me, and took my hand, and loved me... "Daniella," I said again, as I spoke her name, tasting it on the cool evening air. A beautiful name. A beautiful woman. Tall and dark, my very favourite kind. And, perhaps in her, I might find someone who could grow to like me. A friend. Perhaps, if I were exceptionally fortunate, a lover. It had been many, many years since I'd been blessed enough to have either. The evening breeze began to fall from the heights behind me; stirring the waters and shaking the boughs of the towering pine. The leaves of my shrubs danced, the bunches of ripening grapes swung gently. Boats crossed the lake and made for their berths, their lights glowing like little gems on the deepening blue velvet. The glow of the moon's face built behind the southern mountains. The Great mother, Selene, following Helios across the heavens, cycle after endless cycle.

I bowed my head and raised my arms high in praise to her as she crested the southern hills. I felt her gentle touch on my skin. My skin flashed pale, my hair from gold to silver; a moment's kiss and embrace. And then her touch faded, and I diminished once more. The winds ebbed; the waters calmed. A breath, a second... and I turned, decisive. I had a woman that I desperately needed to see again. 🙙🝢🙛 I clothed myself in a thin tunic of pale linen, embroidered with a geometric pattern of bright blue thread around the neck and hem. For a moment I imagined Ariadne, daughter of mighty Minos, wearing such a dress when she first saw Theseus at Knossos... I grimaced. It was not the most auspicious story; Theseus had abandoned Ariadne, after all. But the tunic was pretty - an ancient style that never went out of style for me - still fetching because it was perfectly shaped to my form; it flowed in and out with the slender liquid curves of my body, it showed enough of my breasts to be interesting without becoming overt, and let the air breathe through it and over the smooth curves of my body beneath it. I glanced down at my feet and thought for a moment. I should probably wear sandals. And earrings, perhaps, though the gold I sometimes favoured might be too garish for tonight. Silver, then. Silver for Selene, silver for the night, for magic and luck, above all else, for lovers. Because though we were not lovers, still I hoped. I hoped for a touch, a kiss, a whisper of affection - anything to let me know that I could still be wanted. Oh, I hoped. And so it was, clothed and girded, that I stepped deliberately from the gentle pools of light that bathed the Piazza del Lago and climbed the

time-smoothed stairs to the door of the wine bar that some poor, uneducated, unimaginative lout had named "Chianti". I rolled my eyes at that. Chianti. The cheek. Chianti was from Tuscany; they could have named it Valtellina - that was at least a Lombardia wine... Then I laughed at myself. Pedantry came naturally to me; I knew that I was jaded. I paused in the doorway and took in the scene. It seemed to be a nice enough place - shining, smooth expanses of wood and glass, glittering lights like suspended stars, candles on the intimate little tables, a smooth, stone floor. Warm but quiet, made for privacy... Daniella was behind the counter, but beside her was a man in a nice shirt who was clearly in charge. Oh well. So much for getting her alone. I'd just have to be patient. And perhaps a little devious, though it didn't come naturally to me. But I was gratified by the way she paused and turned to face me, and the quiet little "wow" she mouthed as she forgot herself. I approached them, and smiled warmly at her, then tucked my hair back behind my ears and waited expectantly. "Good evening, Signora," the man said. "What can I get you to drink?" "A glass of wine, please. Red; from Villa Elisa if you have it." "Of course, Signora," he answered. Daniella tried to sneak a glance at me, looked quickly away when she caught my smile, then snuck a second, longer look. I winked at her; she flushed and found something that she could pretend to be busy with. I liked the way her white cotton shirt hugged her, revealing nothing but loudly hinting at many things. I liked the way she'd left her hair unbound so it would avalanche down over her shoulders. I liked the subtle shade of coral-tinted lipstick, the sun-tanned olive of her skin, the warmth of her eyes... And I liked that she was a princess and not a stuck-up, haughty, holierthan-thou queen.

"Your wine," said the man. "Thank you." I paid with a crumpled ten euro note that I'd found on the bank the day before. I nudged the coins from my change back towards him, I'd watched enough people to know that this was appreciated. "Hey, thank you," he said, smiling. "But that wasn't necessary." "It is nothing," I demurred. "Thank you for the wine." I retreated to the long wooden counter that lined the windows and slipped onto one of the elegant stools that waited there. I stared out into the night, tracing the movements of distant boats. Then I closed my eyes, and let the aroma of the vineyards rise from the wine and surround me. I was intimately familiar with the sunny banks where these vines grew, down where the river flowed between the arms of the valley and out into the lake... I inhaled; smelled the springs of prior years, the bitter winters, the floods... and twining through all of it the sunlight that had showered down on us, and the goodness of the land that surrounded the waters in this cradle within the mountains. I sipped my wine, my toes curled with barely-suppressed pleasure. It was a good year, this year that the winemaker had bottled and set aside for me to find tonight. I blessed him and hoped he would live a long and joyous life, surrounded by the people he loved. And I sighed softly at the inherent bittersweetness of that blessing. I tried to set my loneliness aside and focus on the pure liquid pleasure that was my glass of wine. It was the simple pleasures, I found. The simple things kept me going. I was blessed that this was my space. That so little had changed over the millennia. If I looked out over the waters, I could (dimly) see the rocks where Tanaquil had first bathed in me, and where we'd - some years later- first made love, and where I'd - years later still - held her hand and sobbed as I watched her slip away. And there, above us, the sacred ridge line

where the Etruscans had buried their kings and queens... it still stood in plain sight, undisturbed by modern archaeologists, cutting a dark, mournful slash in the deep purple night sky. The ancient breakwater sang a soft song of loss as waves lapped over it; it was overlooked by everyone now. I could still remember the way the mists kissed the water when the priests of Sun and Moon had launched their boats from the shore behind it and crossed to the holy island to worship their PreHellenic Pantheon in the crowning grove of sacred pines whose greatgreat-great-great-to-infinity-grandchildren still dappled the slopes below... I raised my glass to my lips again and hesitated... "You have such a pretty smile," Daniella said. I gasped and somehow managed not to spill wine on myself or the counter. "Oh!" she said, appalled. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" "Oh, no, don't be silly, it's fine," I answered. I laughed. "I was just... remembering something and not paying attention. Goodness, you walk very quietly for such a tall girl. Hi," I said, turning towards her and smiling upwards, delighted that she'd come to me. "I'm Isea." "I'm... Daniella," she said "Didn't I see you? Earlier today? Was that you, sunbathing, on the rocks near Il Corno?" "Yes," I said. "I saw you. You wore a maroon bathing suit, and you swam out to the Six Sisters. We waved at one another." "It was you!" she said. "Oh, perfect. I was nearly certain... but... well, I wasn't sure." She glanced around; the bar was quiet. There was only one other customer - an old man who was nursing his wine while he read a book in the corner. "Busy night?" I asked, keeping my face carefully neutral. "Can't you see? I am run off my feet," she said, lips curling, irony dripping from her words. "I'm not sure how I'll survive." I laughed softly. I really, really liked her "So.... are you just visiting the valley?" she said.

"Me? Oh, no. I live here." "Really? In Iseo?" she said, surprised. "Sort of..." "Oh, amazing. So do I." She smiled and leaned in. "I took you for one of the stuck up, snooty ones from Milan," she continued, conspiratorially. "You know - the Fashion Victims. It's that dress. It is beautiful, and it looks far, far too grand for this place. Well... so do you, to be honest." "No. No. I'm from here. Very definitely from here," I said, warm from the flattery. "Milan. Hah. I'm sure it's nice. But... to be away from the lake? Impossible!" "I know," she confessed. "I love it here. It's like living in paradise. I study in Bologna; I can never wait to come back home." "Good," I said, pleased. "It is good to love your roots. Where we come from has... importance." "Mm." She turned, and slid onto the seat beside me, leaning back against the counter and angling herself in towards me. The man behind the bar snorted and rolled his eyes at her. She flicked her chin at him; he laughed and turned away. "Idiot," she said. "My cousin, Giovanni," she added. I eyed him for a moment. There was not much resemblance. But he hadn't complained about her coming to talk to me. So clearly he was nice enough. "Mm," I said, dismissing him. "You're far prettier than he is." She laughed again, then leaned nearer still. "So... Isea," she said, softer now. "I have a question that I've been absolutely dying to ask you." "You may ask it."

"Do you usually sunbathe topless like that?" she said, eyes sparkling. "Oh, is that all? No." I smirked. "No?" "No. Usually I wear nothing at all," I said, enjoying myself with the direct answer to her likewise direct question. Her eyes widened; she laughed uncertainly. "Nothing? Really? Here? I'm surprised you haven't been assaulted and dragged to a convent by angry grandmothers." "It's amazing what you can get away with if you're discrete about... where you do it. And who sees you," I added, lowering my voice. Her eyes flickered downwards along my body to the curve of my breasts, then back to my face. "Really?" she repeated, softly. "Mhmm. I know a place where very few people go." I sipped my wine and smiled at her, letting my eyes widen ever-soslightly... She shivered, took a breath... The door opened. An older couple walked into the wine bar, the woman in a long, elegant blue gown and the man in a nice, well-cut suit. Giovanni straightened behind the counter, and Daniella shifted beside me. "Oh, Dio santo, of course it would happen right now," she sighed. "Oh well. Time to work. Sorry." "See you later," I breathed, and I gently touched her hand. "I... really hope so," she answered. She gave me one more lingering glance and a wistful smile before she stood. She loped back to the counter and began to help her cousin take the couple's complicated and meandering order. I slid off the stool and carried my glass outside. I walked carefully across the Piazza to the stone wall that still showed the masons marks if you

knew where to look. I leaned on the modern railing and savoured my wine as the stars rotated above me. And I daydreamed of the warmth and open curiosity in Daniella's eyes. She was still busy with customers when I returned; our eyes met as I returned the glass to the counter top. "Ciao, gorgeous," I mouthed. She flushed and looked away. But the pleased little smile that she couldn't quite hide said everything I so desperately needed to hear. 🙙🝢🙛 Dawn. I stirred on my bed, yawned, stretched my legs and pointed my toes. A whiff of mist on the air beyond the scent of the Rosemary sprig on my little night stand. Mist at dawn. It would be hot today. I wondered if Daniella and her friends would come to the water again; I hoped they would. She'd seemed... wonderfully intense around me. I wondered if I was reading the signs right. I hoped I was. I could imagine few things better than seeing her again... Well... a few things would be better, I thought to myself. If I were completely honest; kissing, touching, making love... all of them would be miles better than simply seeing her. But seeing her would be delightful enough to tide me over. It was so long since I'd had someone to look forward to simply seeing. I arched backwards, jaw creaking, whimpering softly. Then I flowed to my feet and shuffled sleepily to the entrance of my home. I squinted out into the wafting tendrils of morning fog and scratched absent-mindedly at my thigh. It was going to be a gorgeous day. I dawdled out into the cool air and claimed a few cloud-kissed grapes from my vines, more from long habit than any strict need for them. From

there I sauntered down the gentle grassy slope to the shore and stood there with my toes in the water, the grape juice still sweet on my tongue. I thought about how to spend my morning. And then I smiled. I would go swimming, of course. So I thought for a moment, and remembered, and the translucent chemise I'd worn to bed shimmered and flowed and became a deep blue one-piece of the sort I'd seen a woman wearing on the deck of an enormous boat the prior summer. I calmed a circle of my surface so that I could stare down at my reflection. I was still beautiful. Even now. I prayed she'd like me like this. I began to make my way slowly along the shore, staring at the stones and the ripple-drawn whorls of sand, feeling the awareness of these parts of my domain grow and ebb as I moved over them. And as slow, mighty Helios climbed above the eastern horizon, the last of the haze burned away and my waters flamed blue. I bowed my head to him - no raised arms, no homage, no fealty though, not even for the sun. That devotion I gave to my mother Selene alone. The morning breeze waxed, then waned again. The blue vault of the heavens was mirrored once more on the surface of the lake, bisected in places by the ever-present watercraft that skittered hither and thither. I reached the man-made beach and stepped out slowly through the gently lapping wavelets at its edge. Footprints of men, women and children were everywhere. The locals loved to swim in this place. They loved it here. I smiled, pleased. Then I turned and walked out into the water, stopping when the interface kissed my navel. A school of perch came to greet me before dispersing again; a gull dipped his wings and sang his mournful salute before easing off towards the town in hopes of stealing something more filling than an immature fish.

I stood, closed my eyes in bliss, and let the sunlight fall on my face as I waited. I ran my fingers gently over the surface; I could be patient as the mountains if needed. But it took only an hour, or at most two, before the rusty white Fiat bounced and whined its way down the rough track to the clearing in the scrub. Only one of the men was present, this time, but the two other woman and the woman I adored had all come too. They emerged through the low waterside bushes, following the sandy path, laughing breathlessly at one another. And Daniella, leading them all, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me. The blonde bumped into her. "Daniella? What is it?" she asked; then she peered around her friend and saw me. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening. She shared a knowing smile with the brunette, while the lone man just stared at me as if struck dumb. I left the water and advanced to them, but I had eyes only for Midnight's daughter. She flushed, shifted, fiddled with her hair and the hem of her shirt. "Hello... Dani," I said, softly, when I stopped within an arm's reach of her. "Hello," she squeaked. Her friends shared amused glances; the blonde gave me a warm, approving grin. "Marco," she said. "Bettina. Come on - andiamo. We'll be over there, Dani," she told her friend, and Daniella nodded abruptly. She seemed about to say something more; but the others simply eased past us, clearly abandoning her to me. Her foot shuffled in the sand, and I realised just how nervous she was. "I wondered if you would be here today," I said softly, taking pity on her and saving her from the burden of being first to speak. "We're here every day in summer," she answered, as if on automatic. Her friends splashed down into the water behind us and started talking softly, laughing - obviously at us. Daniella took a deep breath.

"What is this, Isea?" she said. "Why are you here?" "You... intrigued me," I answered. "And... I live in the moment. I took a chance. I hoped you would come, and I'm so glad to see that you did." She sighed. "So. Now I'm here. Now you've ensnared me," she added, wryly. "Ensnared?" I protested. "Me?" "Yes, you! My friends are never going to let me live down the day the gorgeous Milanese blonde in the designer swimsuit that costs more than a small car walked up out of the waters of lake Iseo purely to speak to me." I stared at her. "But I'm not Milanese," I protested, amused. "Yes, but they don't know that!" she said. She tucked her hair back out of her face and shifted closer; high colour had coloured her cheeks. "My God, Isea. You... you could have stepped from the pages of Grazia or Vogue. Unbelievable. You are incredible. I should feel flattered, I suppose, that you find me interesting enough to wait here for me." I turned partly away; I was thoroughly pleased by her reaction. "And so you flatter me in return, and so early in the day?" I teased her. "It seems that it's my fate, yes." Her eyes were bright; her cheeks pink... "Mm. I'll be gentle, then. So," I added, "now you have a choice - either you have to introduce me to your friends, or you have to come and swim with me." "That's an easy choice - I will swim with you," she answered. She smiled. "It will drive them crazy to have to wait for me." "I like that choice," I breathed; her flush deepened. I walked out into the water; she stripped off her tee shirt and dropped it on the sand. The maroon bikini top was even better up close, lifting and cupping her small but perfectly-shaped breasts as if presenting them to me. And the bikini bottom was really nothing more than an an

abbreviated triangle of dark cloth that clung to and barely obscured the sublime curves of her mons and lips. I looked away, forced myself to behave when almost all I could think of was how much I wanted to touch her, part her... taste her... A soft sigh, a desperate reach for patience, and a forceful attempt to ignore the sudden heat between my legs. So I stood and waited, hiding my frustration, as her friends called questions and she answered them. Various gestures were made back and forth. Their clear affection for one another pleased me and spoke well of all of them as people. At last she turned away; she shook her head and gave me a rueful grin. "Sorry," she said. "The children needed calming." I shrugged, amused, then walked out into the waters. I lowered myself into the lake and pretended to gently paddle towards the Six Sisters, some forty metres out across an out-thrust arm of the deep-blue depths. Daniella joined me, her powerful freestyle throwing up waves around us. But I cheated, reached the rocks before her, and stepped up onto them with little effort while she clung to one and stared upwards at me. "How did you do that?" she demanded. "It... you looked like you just... walked up there!" "Years of practice," I said. "And I know all the footholds. Here." I reached down and took her hand, then helped her up beside me. "You are so strange," she said. "You are stronger than you look." She shot me an admiring glance. "And you're an excellent swimmer, though you'd never know for looking at you. Strong, fast, beautiful... what else are you?" "I am many things," I said, adopting a mysterious tone - she snorted. Then she stretched; I watched in delight as droplets of water ran down her arms and over the exposed skin of her flanks and back. She lowered herself to the rock; I followed her and sat, close to her but not touching, not yet. I ran my hands through my wet hair and cast it out over my shoulders, and smiled back at her own, uncertain smile. "So," I said.

She shivered as I put my hand on her leg, but made no effort to remove it as I curled the fingers over and spaced them along her warm thigh. "So," she said, her voice trembling. "Um... what... what happens now?" "Now... I seduce you," I whispered. Her eyes widened slightly. "What?" "Now I seduce you," I repeated. I moved my fingers slowly on her damp, smooth skin. "I whisper gentle words into your ears, and worship you with my eyes and my voice. Your stubborn, cautious heart melts bit by bit and soon... soon, you will take my hand and hold it. We will both smile shyly at one another. My cheeks will flush, yours will burn. You will tell me a secret, I will tell you one in return. Perhaps we'll kiss, perhaps not - I'll leave that up to you, this time. Then we'll swim back to your friends, who will be besides themselves with curiosity as to what we've been doing and why I'm holding your hand. Tonight I will come to your place of work, and I will flirt with you some more, but much more intently and intensely; I will be staking my claim, you see - I will be making my desire and intent towards you... known. You will take a sip of my wine, and tell me I'm the prettiest woman you've ever seen. I will touch you, you will, I hope, touch me in return." I took a breath, listened to her own soft, shivery breathing. "And that, Daniella," I said, mournfully, "is the point at which I will begin to lose my heart to you forever." She stared at me, mouth slightly open. She took a deep, slow breath. "Is... is that how you usually get your way with women?" she managed. "Spinning those silvery webs of honeyed words?" She was amused. But also, I knew, disturbed and excited by how much what I'd just said had... aroused her. I could tell I had pleased her, from the increase in her heart rate to the way she'd first clenched her thighs tightly together and then pressed one outwards against mine. I shivered. I wanted her more than I could ever remember wanting any other girl. I moved my hand slowly up towards her crotch, but withdrew it before I reached it; she made a soft noise of regret. I released her leg and shifted, raising a knee so that I could lean my head on it. My hair trailed into the water and I closed my eyes.

She shuddered once. Her nipples were hard under the soaking fabric of her swimsuit top, her pupils dilated. Arousal was always delightful and easy to see. I knew she was wet. Perhaps even as wet as I was. "I like you," I whispered. "You're beautiful and you have a beautiful smile. And... you seem... well, you seem like me." "Like... you?" she said, voice shaking. "You know what I mean. You like women. You like them like I do. To love. To... make love to. To... hold. To treasure." "How... how did you know?" she breathed. "We'd never met before yesterday. What gave me away to you like this? I try so hard to... hide it." "It wasn't you. It was your friend. The brunette one, yesterday. Bettina? She called me your type. That was what gave you away. She needs to be more... careful... with your secrets." "You have phenomenally good ears," she said, after a breath or two. "And Bettina is impossible. She could never keep a secret, she must tell the world or she will burst. She doesn't have a wicked bone in her body, though, and sometimes she forgets the rest of the world is... not like her." "Water carries the sound well," I said. "Nobody else but your friends would have heard. So... was she right?" "Yes," she said. She met my gaze for a moment, then shrugged. "She was right. I like women. To love and to make love to; to hold and to treasure. But... it's not something that I'd like to advertise to others. Not everyone is... kind." Her answer was soft and secretive. I lowered my voice as well. "I keep many of my own secrets. I don't give them up easily. And I am very... discreet." She stared at me for several breaths, then sighed. "Isea... what do you want? From me, I mean? I am only here for summer. I study in Bologna. I will return there in August. I must. I... I cannot offer very much to someone like you. Not that I'm not delighted and flattered that you want me! Please, don't... don't take this the wrong way. But... I would never be anything but something nice for summer. No matter what I might want to be," she added, softly.

"Perhaps that's all I want," I answered. "Someone... nice... for summer." "You're lying. I can tell." "Yes, I am, a bit. But... something nice for summer would still be lovely, even if there was nothing else to... hope for. Women like you are rare, Dani. Women as beautiful as you are rarer still. And even rarer still are those who smile at me like you do. So... I hope. Silly, perhaps... but then, that's just how it is, sometimes, isn't it?" "You shouldn't hope, Isea," she whispered. "You shouldn't. Hope is unfair, hope makes us liars to ourselves. You are stunning, and gentle, and I... I like you. A lot. You're right - it is silly, but it's true. Your smile... it warmed me. Nobody ever smiles at me like that. So... you won me over right then - the moment I saw you." "The moment you saw my breasts, you mean?" I teased. "Those too," she admitted with a shy grin. "They are very nice as far as these things go. Very... distracting. Your bum is very nice as well. So are your lips, and your eyes," she whispered dreamily. "Oh, God, Isea - it's been so long since I could be this... open to a stranger. But it's strange... you don't feel like a stranger to me. I feel... safe. Here, with you, I mean. It's nice. Feeling... safe, like this. I wish it would last." I shivered as she reached out and cautiously took my hand. "See?" I said. "I told you this would happen." "It was an easy prediction, it didn't need Nostradamus to make it," she said. She shifted, squeezed her leg out against mine again. "And now I guess I have to tell you a secret, and here it is - I dreamed of you last night. I dreamed you pinned me down and kissed me and made love to me. I dreamed that you made me come so hard that I cried. It... hurt... when you weren't there when I woke this morning." "Oh," I breathed. She turned slightly to face me. Her smile was wistful. "There. Now you know how silly I am. A silly little girl who just wants to not always be so very alone in this world. Oh well. At least I told you. Now you have to tell me a secret as well," she said. "You said that that is what happens now."

"I dreamed of you. We were swimming and you put your hands on me. You touched my breasts. And my thighs, and my belly... and my lips, and inside me. You kissed me. It was perfect. And then I woke, alone. I'm used to waking alone. It would be... nice... not to do so. It has been a long time since I last woke up in someone's arms. I would love to wake in your arms." She shivered, licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. "So..." I breathed, entranced. "So those are the secrets dealt with, then. I suppose the next thing is..." And she leaned in, and kissed me, and when she at last pulled back I was panting. It had never felt like this before. Never. "Wow. Oh... oh, wow..." I gasped, struggling. "Oh wow, oh wow..." She put an arm around me and pulled me in against her; my belly spasmed and I let out a soft grunting gasp. "Say it," she whispered, her voice warm and fluttery. "You are dying to say it. Get it over with." "No. Oh, no. It doesn't need to be said. But... oh wow... but this definitely took... less time than I thought it might." "I am impulsive. It's a character flaw. Oh well. I suppose we had better swim back, though I think you are going to owe me favours forever over the teasing I'm about to receive from my ingrate friends." "I will charm them all; they will be too busy congratulating you on your excellent taste in women to ever dream of mocking you." And she laughed, and pulled me to my feet, and kissed me again to the sound of distant squeals and cat-calls from those we'd left behind on the shore. We swam back to the beach and climbed out of the water, and Daniella took my hand in hers and closed her fingers around mine as she led me to where her friends had set up on the warm, white sand. And that was how she introduced me into her little found family; a group of local kids who'd grown up around one-another, born to parents who had done the same. Bettina was studying fashion, and Maria (the blonde) was

studying Jurisprudence in Turin. Marco was apprenticing to his uncle who was a baker... And Daniella? Daniella, my Midnight princess, wanted to become an engineer, but had a year of remedial Mathematics she needed first - so she was studying classics and art to fill what time she had free when she wasn't buried in her books. Maria quizzed me mercilessly - clearly vetting my suitability as a partner for her friend. I smiled but said nothing more than that I lived locally and that my family had been in the general area for generations. When pressed, I hinted that they farmed grapes for the cooperative winemakers, and that seemed to satisfy her - more or less. I said that I was breaking with tradition - that I had dreams of being an author rather than a farmer, and Bettina and Marco cheered me on. Daniella sat pressed up against me; I was intensely conscious of the warmth of her body against mine. Her friends seemed pleased for her, and Bettina hid a soppy smile when I took a chance and leaned my head on Daniella's shoulder. But at last the sun moved on, and the four of them decided it was time to go. "Can we give you a ride, Isea?" Marco asked me. "Thank you, but no. My house is nearby, I will enjoy the walk. It's one of my favourite times of the day." Daniella reached out and took my hand in hers. "Will I see you later?" she said. "If you would like to." "I would like to." "Then you will see me later," I said. She smiled and squeezed my hand, then moved in closer..

A quick kiss on my lips, her hand moving delightfully over my bum, and more laughter and teasing from her friends as she turned, blushing, away. I stood, waving, as they piled into the Fiat and drove off; Dani blew kisses at me through the window at the back. The noise of the vehicle faded; leaving only the gentle rippling of my waters to keep me company. I fidgeted with my toes in the sand. I hadn't lied - not exactly. But it had been difficult to maintain my facade before them, especially before Maria who seemed to be like a wolfhound when it came to sniffing out prevarication and redirection. I got the feeling that she was not entirely convinced about me. I would be more careful next time. 🙙🝢🙛 Dusk was falling as I crossed the Piazza del Lago. I stared at the warm, welcoming light from "Chianti" and climbed the short flight of stairs. Daniella was behind the counter; her cousin, thankfully, was not. She flushed as she saw me enter and moved towards my side of the bar. She seemed delighted to see me. "Hello, pretty girl," I greeted her. "Hello," she replied, smiling. She tossed her head; her fringe and curlicue bangs danced for me. "Wow. I was nervous before you got here. Now it's far, far worse." "Why?" I said, laughing. "My clothes, perhaps?" My tunic was different tonight; a deep, Tyrian purple with a goldembroidered hem that I'd girdled with a cloth-of-gold belt as if I were an ancient Queen. "Somehow between this morning and this evening... I forgot just how beautiful you actually are." I stared at her. Then I grinned. "Clearly not beautiful enough if you're already forgetting." "No! That's... that's not..." she protested.

I felt playful; mischievous. I slowly extended the tip of my tongue, and licked my upper lip with it. She watched me, rapt. Then she shook her head. "Oh, oh Dio santo, you... you make me forget how to speak when you look at me like that." "Like what?" I breathed. "Can a woman not make eyes at the woman she wants to make love to?" "Isea!" she hissed, flushing bright red. "You... you promised! Someone will hear you!" "There is no-one else here. If there were, I'd whisper, or say it all with my eyes. Like this..." I dropped my gaze to her breasts, sheathed neatly in her white cotton shirt and the bra beneath it. "See?" I said. I gave her a wicked grin. "I can be quiet if I must." She stared at me, her fingers tapping an odd, staccato rhythm on the dented and aged counter top. "Well," she said at last. She took a breath. "Well," she repeated. "Now... now it's going to be a very long night for me." "Oh, I can only imagine the excruciating tingles on every single one of those lovely curves of yours," I breathed. "Isea!" she whined. "Stop, you... you're taunting me and it's not fair." "What does fair have to do with anything?" I reached out, gently trailed my finger along the back of her hand; she groaned softly. "Fair would be not telling you how aroused I am right now; that my nipples are hard and my lips are wet and my body..." "Isea..." she moaned. "... is ready for you to have me in any way you want me." She bit her lip and made a soft noise of frustration.

"I told you I would do this," I said. "I told you I would be direct, that I would stake my claim in no uncertain terms. That I would tell you that I want you to kiss me and spread me and have me..." I licked my own upper lip with the uttermost tip of my tongue. She whimpered. "Oh," I said, giving a theatrical gasp and a faint little pant... A full-body shudder rippled through her. "Oh, if only, if only you were... eager enough to have me..." "Oh mother of God. Oh my God," she whispered. "You are so evil." She slowly and methodically looked around the bar. It was empty, completely empty. So was the Piazza outside; nobody was coming. We were alone. "Come with me," she said, suddenly. "Quickly, before anyone sees us." Her imperative tone took me by surprise. "Oh! But... but where..." "Shh! Be quiet and come with me!" She took me by the hand and led me around the counter and through a dark wooden door. The space behind was crowded with boxes and dimly-lit by a single incandescent bulb that hung from the ceiling on an old wire. I drew breath to ask another question...and then her lips were on mine and her arm was around me and her hand was desperately fumbling at the fabric over my breasts. I moaned and arched backwards; a spasm shook me. Her touch had instantly aroused me to fever pitch and my body, my mind... my entire being... craved her. She fumbled at my shoulder straps, and got first the left and then the right free. She bared my breasts to herself, and trailed kisses down over my throat and shoulder until she took my left nipple in her hot, desperate mouth.

I struggled against her, freed my arms from the restricting fabric, and tangled and twisted my fingers in her hair, grunting, arching hard against her. She moved to my right nipple; her hands cupping me, holding me, squeezing me hard between her warm, smooth fingers. Our panting breaths seemed ridiculously loud; she groaned as I dug my nails into her scalp and pulled her against me. I felt her hand scrabbling downwards; she grappled at the fabric of my tunic and pulled it upwards so that she could worm her fingers underneath it and along my thigh to my aching lips. She gasped as she realised that I was naked beneath my thin layer of purple. She pressed against me, panting, seeking and finding my mouth with her own hot lips. Her fingers probed me, parted my warm slick folds and brushed against my engorged, aching nub. "Take... me," I panted, unable to bear the heat of her on me and yet desperately needing more of it. "Not yet, not yet," she gasped. She released me; fumbled her buttons open and folded her shirt roughly back over her arms. She tripped the clip of her bra and let the cups flick away from her own breasts. I reached for her and began to fondle, to worship, to cup them with desperation heightened and amplified by need and our risk of discovery. She kissed me again, then pinned me against the counter as she shifted. She got her hands under my bare buttocks and lifted me with a grunt; I instinctively locked my legs around her as she turned and placed me up on a narrow, free section of counter top. "I am going to taste you," she gasped. "I have wanted it all day." My left leg spasmed as she began to kiss down over my belly, I groped backwards with my left hand to find something to brace against. I angled my hips, opened myself as wide as I could.. and moaned in desperate bliss as she reached me; the muttered "Oh, Oh God," and shudder she gave proving how much she wanted me. She put her hands on my inner thighs to force me open. She spread my lips with her thumbs.

And her tongue was perfect - hot and firm and moving in the most practised and perfect way over and around my clitoris. It was brief. It was frantic. She shifted a hand so she could put a fingertip to my entrance, and my toes clicked and curled in an uncontrollable expression of my overloaded senses. Her tongue lapping, fingertip teasing at me as I writhed and squirmed and bucked against her. Maybe twenty, maybe thirty mad, galloping beats of my heart, and then a building, enfolding, crashing, thundering climax that arched me backwards so hard I banged my head on the wooden panelling. I moaned, little grunting gasps, each in time with a rippling spasm in my belly. And then, as they faded, I opened my eyes and stared down at her, gazing up at me from behind my mound of Venus, and I rejoiced in the feral frown of lust that creased her forehead. I could tell she was smiling. My toes curled as she lapped, and lapped again. Then she paused. A moment of clarity; both of us staring at one another, wondering what we'd just done. And then I pulled her up from me and kissed her, tasting myself on her, she ground her belly hard against my thighs. I fumbled for her crotch; she moaned again and clamped her thighs together on me as she hunched her shoulders forward against me. I could clearly feel the heat of her, even through her clothing; I desired her free of it, I needed to feel my lover's unfettered, unencumbered body on my fingers. I fumbled at her belt, at the button and zip of her black linen trousers. I pulled them down over her perfect, tanned bum and thighs and freed her from the embrace of her negligible, undesired, irritating black underwear.

I touched and parted her and brought my fingers back to smell her, to taste her. She let out a shivery little sound of desire as she watched, entranced. A moment of calm before the plunge; then I lunged upwards, caught her neck with my arm, and pulled her hard against me as I began to drive my fingers between her slick, hot lips and over her little firm hood. She cried out, then bit down hard on her lips, humming and groaning, shimmying desperately as she tried to prevent herself from screaming in her clearly-displayed ecstasy. I kissed her breasts, and the elegant line of her throat, while she bucked in and out and tried to force my finger into her. But I didn't give her what she needed, what she craved - not until she was whimpering and crying and begging in a pleading whisper for me to push my fingers into her and fuck her properly. I slid off the counter and braced myself. Then I drove two fingers into her; she arched forward and spasmed against me for some unknowable length; I rode her mercilessly until her thighs were shaking and her fingernails were gouging into me, a low keening moan all she could vocalise. And then I took pity and eased. She slumped in against me; each frantic breath a faint little gasp, each post-orgasmic shudder a delightful teasing little ripple for me to feel across my soul. I held her, my heart and lips and body aching for her still. And she made a soft, wordless noise and buried her face in my hair. At last she released me; she stumbled backwards and leaned against a cupboard door. Her hair was wild and her pussy lips puffy and soaked. She touched herself, shuddered, then stared at the beaded moisture on her slender fingers. "You are too good at that," she whispered. "Oh, oh fuck me, you are so incredibly good at that." I straightened the fall of my dress over my thighs and eased my shoulder straps back into position. Then, modest again, I slowly fastened her bra, positioned it, and buttoned up her shirt - while she stared down at me, helpless and captivated.

"I am not even warmed up," I breathed. "That was just a taste of what I want of you. I'm going to make you make me scream your name." She grinned, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Let me work, and let me rest, and then I will come and find you. That was... magical.. I want... no, I need more from you." And I smiled up at her as she did her best to tame her unruly mane. She snuck a peek out through the door; the bar was still deserted. No more than a few minutes could have passed. She took my hand and led me back out, and I stared hungrily down at her slender bum as she eased me around the counter again. "So... a glass of wine, was it?" she said, innocently. "Yes. Definitely..." I whispered; then I paused, shuddering as another aftershock rocked me. She laughed in delight, and, still giggling, she dug beneath the counter for the Villa Elisa. She found me a glass and poured me more than she should have. Then, just as she was about to hand me the wine, she paused. "You are the prettiest woman I've ever seen," she said. "You said I'd say that, and it's true. You are. And by far the most beautiful I've ever been lucky enough to... be with." And she raised the glass to her coral-pink lips and took a slow sip before placing it in front of me. "You've drunk from my cup," I said, as a shadow of melancholy suddenly seized me. "You've kissed me. You've... had me. So now... well, now I'm afraid that you must pay the price." "And what is that?" she answered, smiling. But then her smile faded. "Isea? What is it?" she said softly. She reached out to touch my lips with her thumb. "Isea?" "I have reached the point," I said. She paused, then leaned in closer, and closer still. "What point, Isea?" she said softly, her eyes tracking over my face.

"The point, Dani, where I begin to lose my heart to you forever." "You're... serious, aren't you?" she said. "You're not just trying to be poetic, you're actually dead serious when you say that." I nodded. She let her head fall downwards as she contemplated that. Then she raised it again, and tucked her hair back once more. "I will try to be worthy of your heart, then," she said. I sat there at the bar, keeping her company, as the infrequent visitors came, and chatted, and ordered their drinks before leaving. At midnight she sighed and shook her shoulders. "Time to close up," she told me. "Apparently things will get mad in a week or two but right now... thank you for being here. Thank you for the company... and for keeping me warm," she said with a smile. "It gave me lots of time with you," I said. "And... that makes me very happy." "Mm. Me too, though my pussy is still soaked and aching," she grumbled. I laughed. She closed out the till and disappeared into the office with the cash tray. She returned a few moments later with her thin coat and a set of keys. "Come. Let's go somewhere more... relaxed. Come," she repeated, and she gently applied pressure to the small of my back. She locked the door of the bar behind us and struggled into her coat. "How are you not freezing, standing there with no coat and no underwear?" she said. "I'm still warm from you," I teased. She tucked in against me and linked her arm with mine. "So..." she said. "So." "Are we going to your house, or my flat?"

I paused, feeling a faint brush of disquiet. My house was not an option, and hers might be beyond my reach. "Why... why don't we stay near the lake for now," I said. "It is a beautiful night." "That it is," she agreed. She smiled down at me. "But... are you sure?" "I like the water under the moon," I whispered. "This is my favourite place. Well... maybe second favourite, now that I know what it's like to be in you..." She laughed and barged me gently with her hip. "... And... I haven't cleaned. I cannot let you see my home just yet. Tomorrow night... maybe?" "You are such a flirt," she said, but I knew I'd pleased her. "And... what about mine?" "The night after," I said, smiling. "I would love nothing more than to fall asleep on top of you..." "Oh, on top of me, is it?" "... oh, yes, but..." "Cooler heads must win," she said softly. "I understand. I am far too impulsive; I leap without looking." "I like that you've leaped without looking," I protested. I caught her hand in mine and squeezed it. "I just... don't want to disappoint you." She laughed and shook her head; her enchanting ringlets danced under the silver moonlight. "That would be hard," she said. "You're great with your fingers." I felt myself blushing. "There's... more to things than that, Dani, as sweet as it is that you think that way..." "Maybe. But it's a good start. So... does that mean I don't get to have you again tonight?" I glanced around. "Well," I said, "there is a bench right over there..."

"It's under a lamp," she pointed out. "Nice try, but no. I am not taking my pants off in the light for everyone to see me. Not even for you, I'm afraid. And I'm most certainly not doing anything depraved there, I'm already a big enough disappointment to my family." "Which way is your flat, then?" I said, touched and saddened for her. "Up the hill - see that building with the pink wall and the big pines? That's home; I have a room with its own door." "Oh," I said. It was far - too far, likely. "I don't think I can walk that far." "I have my Lambretta," she said. "It may not look like much, but it will carry both of us up the hill." I paused. Moving away from my waters would weaken me. It was... too great a risk. "I... cannot," I whispered. "I wish I could, but I cannot. Not tonight." "Oh," she said, disappointed. "And there I thought you liked me." "But... but I do!" I protested, before I noticed the grin. "Oh, you... you..." "I understand nerves, and not wanting to expose yourself." Her smile faded. "Believe me, I know what it's like to be found out. I know what it's like to trust blindly." "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm spoiling the mood." "Don't. I... understand." I moved in closer and reached up to wrap my arms around her; she sighed and leaned in against me. "It doesn't mean I'm not going to sulk, though," she whispered as she squeezed me. "I was looking forward to feeling you again. I'm... cramping, I want you so much." "Oh? Well... that's easily solved, Dani," I said, as I tugged the hem of my skirt up between us and took her hand in mine. "What are you... oh... oh..." I teased her fingers along my wet inner lips and shuddered against her; she groaned.

"You feel so amazing," she gasped. "I wish I could be in you again..." "Also... uhn... easily solved..." I pulled her hand away from me and tugged her to one of the small flights of stairs that led down to the water. There, in a patch of gloom, I braced myself against a pillar and parted my legs for her. I lifted my dress and waited. "Well?" I said, when she didn't seem to get the hint. She stared down at my bare, exposed crotch, then glanced around wildly before she leaned in. "Are you crazy?" she breathed. "What if someone sees?" "You're just going to have to be very quick," I moaned. "Very quick. Take me; take me here, make me yours again... but quickly...oh... oh..." Her fingers danced over me, her arm supported me as she kissed my ear, my throat, my shoulder... And it felt like only seconds later that I came hard on her, arching against her, panting my little wordless gasps of pleasure into her chest. And then she reached up to our mouths and teased her finger into mine; I groaned at the taste of myself on her skin. "I barely touched you," she whispered, thoroughly pleased with her performance. "And yet you react like that to me." "Can't help it. Sex with you. Is amazing," I panted. "It's... Dani, it's been so long since anyone touched me. And you do it so, so well..." And she stifled any further words with another kiss. Later - much later - I finally managed to convince her to leave me there in the Piazza and go home; she was grumpy about that but I promised her I'd be fine and that, anyway, I had things I needed to do early in the morning. I kissed her until my breath ran out, and kissed her again once she'd straddled her scooter.

"Play with yourself some more and tell me about it tomorrow," I demanded. "I'm too sore now to play with myself, and anyway you'd need to beg for the details," she laughed. She smiled at me. "Sleep well, you mad, divine woman." "Oh, I will. I definitely will." And I stood back and watched her turn and ride away. My mood dipped and dimmed. Selene's thoughtful face sank towards the south-western ridges, and her silver path sparkled on the water. I wondered how I would ever reach my lover's bed. I wondered whether I still had the strength in me to spend a night in her arms, or whether she'd wake and see me, incapacitated and fading... "Oh, Selene, guide me," I whispered. But the Great mother was silent. So I turned, and made my way slowly over my lonely waters to the distant solitude of home. 🙙🝢🙛 Dawn. I woke, limbs and loins still aching pleasantly from Daniella's tongue and fingers. I groaned, then smiled, clenching my thighs tightly together as I thought about my new lover. I wondered if she was similarly tender. Frantic fumbling in whatever space presented itself, with no time to prepare - aches were a common aftertaste of that flavour of lovemaking. I wondered if she was thinking of me. I swung my legs from my bed and sat, considering my limited options. I would tell her that I was... in seclusion here? That my book was one on ancient mythology? Perhaps I'd... decamped to this place to immerse myself in the history? I paused.

It was as good a tale as any, and at least I'd... have the knowledge to back it up. I sighed. I hated having to hide who I was. Perhaps... No. No, I couldn't reveal my nature to her. Modern humans didn't react well; the ancients had at least known we were there and were accustomed to seeing us without then instantly going and medicating themselves into insensibility. So... I'd need something - a meal. Blankets, I supposed. A bed was out of the question, there was no time. We would have to improvise. But I needed to pass as someone... at least somewhat like her. I changed my chemise into something that approximated the clothes Daniella had worn - a tee shirt and jeans, though my jeans were a deep indigo-blue. And then I dug into the small Cedarwood trunk that housed my treasures. Gold and silver coins, I mused, were unlikely to be accepted. I had some Euros; not a king's ransom, but people were persistent in their attempts to lose coins and notes in the sands along my banks. Why, just last year, that wealthy Roman had fallen from his launch and lost his wallet to my depths... I lifted the wallet from the depths of the chest, and removed ten of the crinkling notes; seventeen remained, and more would certainly come my way before Summer's end. It would be so much easier if I could use my coins, I thought. But a sixth sense warned me against trying. There was no point in creating an event and drawing attention to myself. I shod myself in a pair of shoes like those Dani had worn. And then I set off for the small village of Predore which lay less than a mile away around the curve of the shore. There was a shop there that sold various things; I'd seen people walking out carrying everything from brightly-coloured buckets to jars of fruit. It would probably have what I needed.

And it did. I bought something that the shopkeeper had explained was an inflatable sleeping pad of some sort big enough for two, some thin cotton sheets, two pillows and two blankets. He'd been bemused by me, and then amused by me, but once he'd decided I was harmless he had been extremely helpful - almost fatherly, in a way. I bought a little canvas bag with the silhouetted image of Monte Isola printed on it, and carried my purchases in it as I dug through his small selection of fresh produce from his garden. I bought olives, and vine tomatoes. I bought bread that his wife had baked that morning, and a bottle of wine and some clear plastic glasses to drink it from. And then I paused. "How should I make a fire?" I said. "If I want a fire, that is?" He thought for a moment, then placed a small yellow box on the counter. "These are what you need," he said. "Lighters fail sometimes, these matches will not." And I thanked him with a smile, and paid him, and walked my new things back home with me. I inflated the mattress, though first I spent a good while squinting at the strange pictographs that claimed to demonstrate how to do it yet didn't. I moved my pillows onto it, and covered it with a sheet and a blanket. Then I lay down on it and stared upwards at the dusty rock roof of my cave. It was very comfortable. Quite different to my bed. And a new perspective too. I liked the change. I sat up, and reached for the matches. After staring at more pictoglyphs and some experimentation, I managed to light a match, and stared, enraptured, as the flame consumed the wood. I'd seen people collect kindling, so I did that, and heaped it up, and taught myself how to light it.

The flames fascinated me; they were so fast, so alive. So quick to die away again. I fetched stones and ringed my hearth with them to prevent any accidents. I collected more kindling and some bigger boughs. It was nearly midday. I wondered if she'd be swimming. I thought about that image for a moment or two. Then I yawned and stretched. I could no longer sense all my waters, not in these latter days. So I'd have to go and look. I changed my outfit into the "designer blue swimsuit" as she'd called it, and walked down the bank to my waters, and from there along the shore until I reached my favourite hollowed-out rock. I stared out at the beach, but was disappointed. She was not there. I settled down onto the rock, pensive. Then I shrugged. She'd likely slept late, I thought. It had been very late by the time we'd exhausted one-another and she'd left. Likely she'd been catching up on whatever it was she needed to be doing in the morning. I'd visit her at work, and get her to come home with me. A strange whim occurred to me. I slipped down into the water and began to swim - like Daniella had done, kicking her long, graceful legs and thrashing her arms... It was so inefficient, so ridiculous; I laughed, and then laughed again at the simple joy of laughter. Her presence lingered in this place; I felt her love everywhere. I turned onto my back and suspended myself at the surface, letting my waters carry me slowly with the gentle current that kissed the bank, smiling up at the birds that came to see what on earth I was doing. And the slow face of the sun crossed the heavens and began his gentle descent into evening. I made my way to Iseo, and waited in the shallows, just off the shore of the Piazza del Lago.

I watched her arrive; watched her park her Lambretta, watched the careful way she swung her legs off the seat... And then, once she'd climbed the steps to the bar, I stepped from the water and assumed a new outfit. A simple skirt tonight; something more modern, pale linen falling to my knees and a soft, pink cotton top that obscured almost nothing of the curves of my bare breasts beneath it. I climbed the stairs and crossed the Piazza; a man whistled at me and I twirled for him and blessed him with a smile. I reached the bar. I pushed open the door. And she looked up at me with a warm, sensual smile that became a slack-jawed stare. "Oh my God, Isea," she said as I closed the distance to her. "You look amazing. Come and sit here with me, I will be right with you." I slid onto a stool and waited for her to finish what she was doing. She put some glasses back into a rack and tucked her hair back behind an ear. She was also blushing, her eyes bright and excited. "Hello, pretty girl. You're blushing," I added, helpfully. She gave me a mortified look, and then laughed, shoulders shaking in the most perfect way. "Stop that. You know perfectly well why," she said. "You're stunning tonight, Isea." She moved over to me and leaned on the counter, staring into my eyes. "I had lovely dreams," she said, and I found myself watching her lips as she said the words. "Delicious dreams, I hope," I whispered, pleased. "Sublime. Nearly as good as what we did before them. So. A glass of wine for my lover?" she said. "Please," I said, blushing in pleasure.

She turned and busied herself. I spent my time admiring her hips and the shape of her legs under the tight black trousers she was wearing, and thinking about the treasure they hid beneath them. She turned and caught me staring; she laughed softly. "Caught you," she said. "Yes," I admitted. "I like staring at you." "You're allowed to," she said, pleased. "How long are you here tonight?" I asked. "Only an hour or two, then Giovanni is coming to work the later shift. We've agreed that there's no point in both of us being here when nobody else is, and his girl will come visit him when she's done tonight." "So you're free?" "Perhaps," she said. A smile curved her lips. "Why?" "If I ask you nicely, would you come... to my home?" She paused. "So you've cleaned, then?" "A bit..." I admitted. "Not that there was much to do. I was making excuses, you were right." "I knew you were. But I don't mind. Baby steps are the safest, aren't they?" "Mm." She placed my glass in front of me; I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the aromas. "It's so strange the way you do that. You... you go still for a moment, it's as if you're not even there." "Memories," I said. "They... are powerful and evocative for me." "Mm. And you love that specific wine that much?"

"Yes. It's our local vineyard after all. They use the lake water, and the vines grow in our soil under our sun. It's like drinking the distilled flavours of this place. It's like tasting its history on my tongue." "I suppose that makes sense," she said. "I hadn't realised it was from down the valley. It's a nice wine." "Yes. It was made with love," I said; she smiled. "You say that word a lot," she said. "You're a very passionate person behind that beautiful model's face." "I... just love my home. This valley, this lake... the people," I added, staring up at her. She reached out and touched my cheek. "So," she whispered. "So." "Any chance of a kiss?" "Oh... I don't know..." And then she laughed and leaned forward across the counter to kiss me. I sat across from her, smiling at her and listening to her natter away about her day and all the things she'd had to catch up on due to our late night. And I made up a story, a little white lie, about lying on my bed and thinking about my book. It was a tale set in the area, I said - featuring the people who'd lived here long ago. I'd watched history, and I was mythology personified... why not play to those strengths? I felt a stab of guilt that I was lying, but... there wasn't much choice. Modern people didn't believe in me, and I feared what would happen if she learned my true nature. So... I spun my tale for her, and she watched me and listened, wideeyed and entranced. We suffered a few interruptions - men and women and couples who arrived and wanted their own wine and their own time with my beloved. She'd serve them, and laugh at their jokes - but she'd always return to me.

Her cousin arrived early; he smiled at me and scoffed at her as she begged him to cover for her, but gladly did so, and she hugged him hard. I liked how she telegraphed her affection for people. I liked how her eyes telegraphed her affection for me. She grabbed her thin jacket and took my hand and tugged me outside, steering me by pulls and nudges towards her rusty silver scooter. "Where to?" she asked, as she buckled her helmet onto my head. "You look nervous." "I've never ridden on one of these before," I confessed. "It's easy - like riding a bicycle." "Um... I haven't ever ridden a bicycle either." "Oh. Really?" She eyed me for a moment. "Sit on the seat, and move backwards. Let me get on in front of you." And I did as she instructed and soon got to enjoy the warm pressure of her bum against my thighs. "Now... wrap your arms around me. Just... under my breasts. No. Not there; those are my breasts, Isea, and you know that. Leave my nipples... oh Dio Santo! Lower. Yes, like that. Now hold on, and... lean when I lean." I was still giggling to myself as she started the motor, and slowly eased us around. "You are impossible," she said. She pushed back against me. "Vixen. Again... where to?" "The north shore, just past Predore." "Are you okay?" she said. "Ready?" "I... think so..." "Hold on tight now, and don't let go. "

The motor roared and I closed my eyes, laughing in childlike glee as the wind began to rush over my skin and tug at my clothes. "It's like flying! I love it!" I called to her, and I heard her loud laughter. "Where are we going!" she shouted. "Just... just keep going, I'll tell you when to slow." And she pushed back against me and bore us off into the night; I felt like I was riding a horse across the wheat fields of Elysium. Soon we'd crossed the bridge, and swept through Sarnico and Predore. A couple of slow turns of the lakeside road, and I tapped her stomach. "Slow down... on the right... here!" She turned off the road and we bounced cautiously down the short dusty track towards the water. "Stop here," I shouted, and she eased us gently to a halt. She lowered the bike onto its stand and climbed off. Then she helped me slide off the seat and stand. I gave her her helmet, and she hung it on the handlebars. "Now where?" she said. "I don't see a house anywhere around here, Isea." "Yet this is where I live. Come on." I took her hand in mine and led her through the masking shrubs to the small out-thrust arm of the hill and the gentle glamour that discouraged unwanted visitors. She stopped when she saw the dry-stone wall. "Here?" she said, incredulously. "You live here?" "For the moment," I said. "It's... part of the experience." She stared at me. Then she shrugged. "Well... I suppose you needed to have something strange and mysterious about you," she said, smiling. "But this is... very rural, Isea. Not even my Grandparents live this off the grid..."

"I like it. It's quiet and peaceful and gives me the space I need to think. Come, Dani. Come into my home." She followed me dubiously around the wall, then stopped. "Oh," she whispered. "Oh... this is actually... lovely." I smiled over my shoulder at her. "I know it seems very... poor, by comparison to the towns... " "Isea, no! I love it! It's so simple and so beautiful. Oh... oh my goodness, are these coins in this niche gold?" "Some. Some are brass. And silver, and some are even electrum." "It's so clever. Did you do this?" "Yes," I said, pleased. "I found them all in the water, and... well, they're pretty." "Other people would have sold these to collectors," she said. "These... Isea! These are Roman! They must be worth a fortune!" "Maybe, but... I prefer using them like this. Wait... I'll light the fire. I have fruit, and tomatoes, and bread and wine for us." She stopped staring at the coins and turned, taking in the pebble floor, the clean rock walls, the Spartan existence... "You live so frugally. It is... wonderful. I'm suddenly so jealous of you." "I don't need much," I said. "I never have. Just what the land provides, and love to keep me going." She glanced around. "May I sit on your bed?" "Of course! Sorry, I spend most of my time outside, so I have no chairs. I keep meaning to fix that, but... it's only been me, so..." "How do you write?" she said. "There's no paper, no pens - just this small bookshelf." "I keep it all up here," I said, tapping my head. "I have an excellent memory."

"You must do. I don't," she confessed. "I write lists for myself and then forget where I put the lists." "I'd keep your lists for you," I said; she grinned. I knelt and lit a match, then touched it to the pile of kindling. I added sticks and then small sections of fallen branches. The fire blossomed and began to build; I leaned back and then sat on the pebble floor, pleased with myself, watching the smoke kiss the roof before billowing out in the gap between wall and overhang. "So... tell me about your book," she said. She shifted on the bed and leaned forward. I felt a pang of conscience. But I'd gone too far down this road to step away from it; I had to carry on. "The first people here were... well, you'd call them Neanderthals I suppose," I said. "Long ago. There's little... trace of them - hollowed stones, bits of worked antler. Hard to... tell a cohesive story about and even harder to get any sort of feeling for. They worshipped the sun and the moon, that much I do know. Later came more modern men, and it was much the same. Then... down the long, narrow road of years, other people we'd think of as similar to modern Europeans came here. They worshipped more things - springs and rivers and mountains and thunderstorms and so on. But again - there's little left of them. The first people to really leave a lasting mark on this valley were the Etruscans." "Hang on - I know them, they're the tribe who became the Romans?" "I suppose that's a way of looking at it. My book's about them. They were... beautiful people. Tall, by the standards of the times. Honourable, mostly. Reliable friends and terrible enemies. They built an empire that spanned from Mantua to Naples. I'm writing a... fictional historical romance involving one of their queens. Her name was Tanaquil." A flash of memory - the tall, black-haired woman, casting coins and jewels into the water in the hope of favourable harvests... "You did it again," Daniella said. "You went... still. Still as stone. Are you okay?" "I was... visualising her. Wondering what she was like."

A lie, of course. I knew precisely what she'd looked like. I'd watched her from my waters, I'd felt her swim in me, I'd taken her breasts in my hands as she'd writhed against me... Beyond my cave mouth, moonlight lit the leaves of the shrubs and grasses. From my perch on the floor I could just see Selene peering into my home. I raised my arms and bowed my head. "And who was she in love with?" Daniella asked, when I was done. "A... demigoddess of water," I said softly. "No way. " "They... believed in different things," I said, feeling strangely defensive. "Dryads and Nereids, Satyrs, Naiads... gods like Apollo and Athena... the world was alive to them in a different way than it is to you... I mean, us." She gave me a strange look, then shook her head, bemused. "It's strange. Sitting here, talking to you... it feels closer, somehow. Like you're talking about beings... people who existed, rather than names in books." "People forget that names in books were once people like them. With the same wants, the same needs, the same loves... the same fears..." "Mm. So... when will you write your book, Isea?" "Soon," I said, grinning. "After summer, maybe I'll start..." ‷... liar...‴ The words were soft, and sad. "No..." I breathed, awed. And then my skin began to glow. "No... no, no, no!" I cried out, as panic seized me. "Isea? What's going on? What the fuck. Isea... oh, oh holy blood of Christ, what the fuck..."

"It's... it's not what it looks like, please!" I wailed, as my hair went silver. She'd scrambled to her feet. She was staring down at me in horror... "You're... you're glowing! You're fucking glowing! Mary mother of God, what the fuck! Who are you! What are you!" "Please, please wait, wait, I can explain! I'm a... I'm a goddess of water, I live here, I've lived here forever... please, please, listen!" "Fuck this. Absolutely fuck all this, this is mad, I'm out. Fuck this! And fuck you too!" she shouted, voice shrill with panic. I moved to block her; I grappled with her, desperate to explain, to beg her to stay, to delay her... "Dani! Please!" I screamed. "Please, just... just let me explain!" "Get away from me, demon!" she screamed back. She hit me - a hard, ringing slap to my jaw and cheek that stunned me, and barged into me, tumbling me to the ground as she ran for her scooter. I lay spread-eagled in the dirt, panting, my cheek stinging and ears ringing from the force of her open-handed blow. I listened to her kick her scooter into life; the wild scrabbling of little rocks as she spun it and rode off at a breakneck pace into the darkness. Nobody had ever struck me before. Nobody had ever used any violence on me. Ever. It... hurt. It hurt deep in me, like a knife that had wormed its way into my bowels and was slicing and rending deep within me. Despair took me. I stared up at the Great mother, her waning face mournful in the black night sky beyond my prison walls. "Why?" I begged her. "Why?" ‷... because you lied...‴ came her distant, almost-forgotten voice, soft and beautiful and inexpressibly disappointed. How much of her remaining strength had her four words to me cost her?

Too much. Far too much. Many times too much for me to bear. I rolled over and hid my face as the hot tears of shame took me. I had lied. I might try to squirm around the truth of it, but the Great mother knew intent. I'd lied to hide what I was. It didn't matter why, it didn't matter what modern man (and woman) didn't believe and wouldn't even entertain. It didn't matter that the truth would make the woman I adored flee in terror. I was a kindly one. I was a Naiad. I nourished life, I guarded, I cherished. Lies were the province of others. So how could I expect Selene to countenance my behaviour? I couldn't. She wouldn't. It was against her nature. And so... I'd done this. And this was my reward and the long-delayed beginning of my slow, final fading. "Farewell, Dani. You were by far the sweetest of all," I whispered to the uncaring stones beneath me. I slowly levered myself out of the dust, and crawled by slow, broken degrees to the bed I'd made for us on top of the inflatable mattress. I found my heart-stone and cupped it to my belly as I curled around it. Now I truly had nothing remaining to me but the slow passage of those years still allotted to me. I was too broken to cry any further. There was no point now, anyway. Nobody would comfort me. I was alone. The flames grew lower, then flickered, then died. The coals cooled from red to black. The heat in the rocks around them faded. Selene's face dipped and disappeared. The pale blush of Dawn dimmed the watching stars. I lay, still as stone, seeking comfort in Oblivion. But even Oblivion was denied me. 🙙🝢🙛

She did not come to my waters. She did not come to her bar. I waited. And watched. For three days and three nights I waited and watched. I could be patient as the stars when I needed to; invisible to humans, my skin moving gently in the kiss of the wind, my body stirred to eddies by the multitude of boats that crossed me. I waited. But I didn't hope. I had no right to hope any longer. I just wanted to see her one last time before the end. But even I can despair. And so, I'd given up, and retreated to my redoubt, my little cave in the mountainside that I'd first curiously explored all those long years ago. And now I sat, staring into the flickering flames of the fire I'd started for company. It was a calm evening, with slow-drifting clouds sometimes veiling Selene's face, and the heat of the day still lingered in the rocks. My waters shimmered and rippled in the night breeze, but I paid neither my waters nor the wider world any mind. Instead, I stared inwards to the slowly-growing nothingness within me. And then... I felt her. At first I ignored the feeling. It was likely some critical need that had brought her back; I would leave her be. I'd hurt her enough. Why do more? But the feeling persisted. She was somewhere nearby. Probably staring out into the night, crying and cursing my name. I sighed. It took a monumental effort, but I summoned the will to stand. And I walked slowly to the mouth of my cave and stared out into the darkness.

Someone was moving out near the water. I paused. The gentle glamour of the place would hide my home from them. I would watch until they moved on, then go back to my home and wait, quietly, for my end. Selene's face broke free from a wisp of entangling cloud; my breath caught in my throat. It was her. It was Dani. She was walking to and fro near the water, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. I could dimly hear her muttering and cursing to herself. Then she stopped. "Where are you!" she shouted, suddenly. "I know this is where we were, I know the mountains, I know these rocks! This is the place. Where are you! Isea, please!" Her voice was shrill and ragged. I could see that she was exhausted. I could tell that she'd been crying. I stayed where I was, cowering in the darkness, watching her and wondering if I was brave enough yet to go to her. The words she'd shouted at me still stung. My jaw still bore the bruise of her blow. But... I had the benefit of age. She was young, she was passionate. Could I truly blame her for reacting how she had? She'd never been face-to-face with a being like me before. Honestly, her reaction should have been predictable. It was why I showed myself so seldom. She was such a brief thing, after all. It was hard to face the reality behind the veil. She would be here a heartbeat and then pass on. My end would be different, the slow silt of years would be what finished me, the slow reduction of who I was by gentle inexorable erosion.... I sighed. I envied her. I envied her youth, her lack of memories, her freedom to be whatever she wished to be. I could not leave this valley without losing all that made me me. Oh, I'd toyed with the idea, of course. I'd nearly done it for Callista, shortly before the fall of Rome... but she'd chosen

marriage to Marcus Lucretius in the end and had left me forever for Messina and the sea, and, eventually, the fields of Elysium. And... somehow down the long years since I hadn't thought about it again, despite the occasional lovers I'd found and lost along the way... until now. Daniella... Midnight's daughter. Dark, beautiful, sweet as honey... She had sunk to her knees in the mud; softly sobbing. I watched her wipe her eyes. She was so warm, so alive. And so quick to anger; she had a fire in her that was so opposite to me that I couldn't help but want her. My waters lapped against the stones along the shore. I knew each and every one of them as intimately as my own skin. They were the walls of my home. The walls of my prison. And now I desperately yearned to be free of them. I took a breath and sighed it out. And then I stepped slowly down towards her, the fabric of my loose linen tunic teasing against my skin, my bare feet barely sinking into the dry sand beneath them. "Hello, Dani," I breathed, only slightly louder than my ripples. She jerked, leaped up and spun to face me. She was pale, eyes wide. "Dani..." I paused, cleared my throat, then tried again. "Daniella, why are you here?" Her mouth opened but no words came out. "Have you come here to strike me again? Here, then," I said. "Here is my other cheek. Strike me again if you must," I whispered. "It will hurt me more than it will hurt you; that I promise you." She took a sobbing breath, but still said nothing.

"Why are you here, Dani?" I repeated.. "Is it to just stand there and stare at the woman who wronged you? Well, here I am. I am sorry, for what little comfort that is now." "I... needed to see you," she gasped, at last. "Dio santo, I am crazy to be here, but..." "Why? Why do you need to see me? You left me lying in the dust, Daniella. You... left me," I managed, trying not to let the pain of the words break me. "Because I was angry!" she shouted. "I was angry with you! Isea! You... you lied to me! About everything! What the fuck are you? Who the fuck are you? Why... why are you haunting my every waking thought like you are? I cannot eat, I cannot sleep, I am crying all the time! Why! Why did you do this to me? I was alone before I met you, and I'd made peace with that! I was okay! And... and now I'm not okay! Not at all! I had you and the joy of you for a heartbeat, at most two, and I was stupid enough to hope that it was finally my time to have something more! Why! Why did you do this to me? Why? What did I ever do to you to deserve this? Dio cane, why couldn't you just have left me alone! Isea, answer me! Why must I be so possessed by you!" "Because I love you," I answered, when I could. "Love? Love! You're... you're a spirit, a demon, you can not..." Her words stumbled to a halt and she covered her mouth, as if horrified by what she'd just said to me. I fought down the sob; I would not cry. Not here, not now. Later, when I was alone, when she'd left... maybe then. Instead, I turned away from her and stared out at my body and the mountains that cupped me and at the sacred island I in turn carried. ""I'm actually a saint, you know," I whispered, when I could speak again. I cleared my throat, continued more forcefully. "It's farcical. Your Church did that to me in the fifteenth century. Saint Isea of the still waters. Nobody asked me if I wanted to be a saint. I preferred just being me. It's hard enough already... just being me." She swallowed. "Are you going to... kill me?" she whispered.

"What?" I gasped, spinning back to face her. "Are you going to kill me? Drown me, pull me down... into the black... depths? Water... things... always do that... in the books..." She was shaking, stammering with fear. I stared at her, too shocked, too hurt by the question to even laugh at the absurdity of it. "... Why would I ever do that? I've never done that to anyone, not even when the warlords made their blood offerings on the western shore and threw their gutted captives into the water. No. No, Daniella. I don't kill. I'm..." I sighed. How to explain this to someone who didn't know the tales, who hadn't grown up knowing with every breath that creatures like me were everywhere? "Listen. Just... please, listen to me. I'm what the Hellenes called a Naiad. A spirit of the flowing waters. I don't take life," I declared, almost insulted by the idea. "I give it. All the plants, all the trees that surround me, all the animals that graze on my banks... all the beautiful people like you that live near me. I could never harm you, Daniella. Neither willingly nor wilfully. It would be betraying everything that I am." "I'm mad. I'm going mad," she whispered. She clutched her head in her hands. "Oh sacred blood of Mary, I'm going crazy like Nana Isabella did. It's the only possibility. Why! Why me? Why did you choose to torment me? Why did you have to come into my bar and... into my head and my heart and... and seduce me like that? I was content. I was alone, and not happy, but I was doing okay!" she added, voice trembling. "I'd made peace with being like this, with being unlovable and having nobody to love. Why, Isea? I would have been okay. I was okay until I met you. Now... everything is broken. Why me? Of everyone, why did you have to choose me?" she whispered. "Because you're special. Because you're gentle. Because of the way you touch me. How you smile and laugh when you're... in me," I admitted, blushing at the double meaning of the latter. "I don't wander much any more. I can't. Men dammed my headwaters and my outflows, and people don't believe in beings like me these days. Your books and your strange machines have... have killed most of us; you've pinned our names to parchment and paper for men and women to scoff at or bicker over in their debates. My sisters are long gone. I'm the last of us that I still know

of. There may be others like me, but even if there are then they are beyond my water's fetch." I took a long, slow breath, and risked stepped closer. She didn't back away like I'd feared she would. "Humanity is old, Daniella. You are old and powerful. You believe as easily as you breathe, sometimes. Your ancestors made me, crafted me and others like me to help them to make sense of the spite of the natural world they could not control. My sisters and I... we were the gentle ones, the kind ones, the ones who brought food and water and plentiful game. Your daughters used to throw flowers into my waters for me - little field blossoms, sprigs of fragrant herbs to keep me sweet and benevolent. I liked that..." I stared down at my hands, thinking of all the faces I'd known over the long and bitter years. "It is so lonely," I whispered. "Being the last. So... I walk my narrowed and diminished world, and watch the beautiful people, and... very occasionally, reach out to the ones who can still see me. Not everyone does; not really. It's only the ones like you, the ones who still have the old names written in their souls, who will sit somewhere here and still really look at me. You, Daniella - you sit on benches or by the water's edge. You're always looking at me. You watch me dance, watch me sing, watch my moods written in the waves and the rain that falls on my face. You... swim in my waters and laugh and rejoice at my touch. You give me your time, your love, your praise. How could I not love you back with everything that I am in return? I am what I am. How could you not expect that of me? " My voice had gone husky on me; I could once more feel the threatening tears. Out beyond us, my ripples became waves under the evening breeze, and Venus gleamed low in the darkening sky. She stared at me, her perfect forehead marred by the frown she wore, her eyes red from the hurt I'd caused her. The silence stretched out between; the moon slowly rose beyond the south-eastern peaks. High and cold, fair Selene glittered, casting her mournful, thoughtful gaze down on me. I turned to face her; to bow my head and raise my arms to her in praise as I always did.

But this time, also, in contrition for my sin. "Forgive me," I whispered. And then my skin flashed pale, my hair to spun silver, lighting me like a beacon in the darkness. "Oh Holy Mother of God," Daniella whispered behind me, awed. I stared up at Selene; my heart aching with bittersweet longing. The Great mother had bestowed her kiss as she sometimes deigned to do. She, too, missed the old ways, when men and women stood on the heights and sang her praise, and when I and my sisters raised our arms and bowed our heads before her glory. And she'd always had a soft spot for my lovers. "See?" I said softly. "She laughs at us, at you and me and this squabble between us. She sees this little dance I do for you. It's an old dance. Older than names. And so she laughs at us and shines on my waters and I reflect part of her. From bronze I change to silver. And I am loved. For a moment or two... I know that I am still loved." I sighed, and blew a kiss up to Selene. My skin and hair faded slowly back to what they had been before. "Even Selene weakens and fades," I mourned. "Men have forgotten her. Your astronomers name the marks on her face, like... like teenagers looking for moles and freckles on their favourite model's cunt." She flinched at the word. I glanced at her over my shoulder. "You do not see her, just her body, and even that is just a curiosity now. Facts pinned to pages. Not deep truths that you feel in your bones. And the same applies to me." I lowered my arms. I let my tunic dissolve. Now I turned to face her and stood there as I truly was - naked and alone. She made a soft noise and clenched her fists; she stared - at my small, pale breasts, at the bare curves of my mound of Venus and my labia and then caught herself and met my gaze again. "I am Isea, Daniella" I whispered. "I have had other names, but that is the one I have always loved most. Tarquinius named me thus - back when the world was still bright and young. But now I am alone. The

Hellenes are gone, the Etruscans too, the Legions and the Pax Romana are no more. I stand here before you as a shadow of what I was. Nobody remembers me, nobody throws flowers in my waters for me. I am forgotten. And yet, I live, and I remain. I am Isea. Look at me. Please... just look at me," I begged, desperate with the longing to just belong, even if for a moment. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips just open in that perfect manner she had; she seemed stunned by the words I'd spoken. "Am I not pretty enough for you?" I whispered. "What? No! I mean, yes! Yes, you are!", she gasped in confusion. "You are! Of course you are! But..." "But I am not human," I said, softly, mournful. "And... and I suppose that is a causeway you will not..." "No! No, it's not that... it's..." She clutched herself. "What?" I said at last. "What is it?" "I will die," she whispered. She bit back a sob. "I will die, and you will not. That will always be a wall between us. How? How could I do that to you, knowing that you would be left behind when I am gone? How can I do that to you?" The chill in my heart melted. She was trying to... to protect me! Even now, even after how I'd hurt her. I spread my arms wide, palms open, encompassing everything of me. "All things die, Daniella. Even me. Another century, or perhaps two if I'm unlucky and linger. My waters grow shallow. I... dwindle." "No!" She gasped, horror-struck. "No! Can't something... be done?" I tried to be gentle, but the truth would be anything but. "Oh, you could dredge me I suppose, and take my silt and put it on the fields, and take my sands and build more buildings with them, and take my stones and line the causeways and the roads with them, or, better yet, use them for your pretty ornamental fountains so that they are still kissed in some way by living water..."

Her eyes darted to the distant lights of Iseo, and her mouth dropped open again as she made the connection. "We're... killing you," she moaned. She covered her mouth with her hands in horror, as if trying to call back the words so they wouldn't become real. "You and Time - both by slow degrees. It happens. That which giveth taketh also away. So yes. Not as soon as you, my love, but some day soon, I will die. And no pretty woman will be there to mourn me. I will not even be a name in a forgotten book." "I'd mourn you," she said, her voice cracking. "You won't even want me any more. You struck me. You pushed me away." The spark of anger flared in her eyes - and the sheen of new tears. She bit her lip hard and took a slow breath as if to calm herself. I felt a sharp pain in my chest; I'd been cruel. "I'm... sorry," I gasped. I squeezed my eyes closed, furious with myself. "I'm sorry, Daniella. That was unkind and unfair. You didn't deserve that. What happened was my doing; I lied to you and that is... false to who I should be. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for... seducing you. I'm sorry for hurting you the way I did. I'm sorry for... for destroying your happiness. I regret this. I... I just wanted to belong, for a little while longer. To be touched, to be held once more before I... faded." A silence fell between us, broken only by the whisper of my waves. Then she broke the spell; she moved, wiped her eyes, gave an unlovely sniff. "What do you want to eat?" she said. "I... what?" For only the third time in my millenniae of existence someone had asked me something that genuinely surprised me. "What do you want me to get you to eat?" she repeated, louder this time. She wiped her eyes again. "Do you eat peppers? How about tomatoes?

Olives? Pasta? Fuck... what I'm... what I'm trying... oh Mother of God. This is stupid. I'm stupid, words are stupid..." She took a breath and pressed her palms hard to her temples. "Let me try this again," she said, voice soft and shaking. "Isea, we need to set some... rules..." "Some... rules?" I repeated, still not understanding her at all. "We have things we need to talk about. Things we need to agree on. Things you need to... to explain to me - about you, about how we'll work. If we'll even work now. I want us to work. I... you... you're the first woman who's held me like that, the first who's kissed me like that. Nobody else I've been with has ever wanted more than just my... my cunt. You... you made me believe that you wanted more. Did you? No. Wait. Don't answer yet. I am not going to ask that question on an empty stomach. I can't. I haven't eaten today. And I can't think when I'm hungry or sad and right now I'm both. So. Again. What would you like to eat, while we... talk? About us? And... maybe... oh God, I hope... where we go from here? I stared at her. I struggled to find words at first. "Olives?" I hesitantly admitted, at last. "I like olives. And... fruit. Grapes. I love grapes. And... but no, it doesn't matter, you won't find them..." "Find what?" she breathed, taking half a step closer. "Pomegranates," I managed to somehow say, heart almost breaking at the memories. "They... you... you don't grow them here. Not any more. And... and oranges. I haven't had an orange in so long... I can barely remember them now..." She made a soft sound and reached out to cup my bruised cheek; I closed my eyes as I tried to fix the memory of her touch forever. "I will find them for you," she whispered. "Don't... hah. I was about to say, don't go anywhere." She took a deep breath and took my hand. Her expression was haunted... but she clasped my hand tightly in hers and curled her fingers possessively around it. I stared up into her dark eyes and nearly forgot myself in the warmth of them. "Oh," I breathed.

"I don't know what I'm doing, or why I'm doing this, or why... you captivate me so," she muttered. "I should run. Everything screams I should run, and find a priest... or a fucking psychiatrist, and..." She sighed. Her shoulders slumped. "Promise me you won't kill me," she whispered. "Please, Isea. Promise me. Swear it by... by Selene's name." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek; she shivered. "People have drowned in me, Dani," I said. "It is tragic, but it happens. But I have never pulled them down. I tried to save those I could; and sometimes I managed. But were it you in my waters?" I kissed her left eyelid, and then her right, and she whimpered. "Daniella - I swear this in Selene's name. I would part my waters and carry you to shore and lay your head upon my breast and guard you until you woke. If it took until the last star burned out and golden Helios fell into Thalassa... I would hold you until then and beyond. If it took until my waters were dry and my body crumbled to dust, still I would hold you and guard you." She brushed at her eyes with the side of her hand. "You're crazy," she mumbled at last. "I'm not worth that." "Yes you are," I gently disagreed. "And more. So - by Selene, the Great mother, by my waters, by moon and star and sky - I promise not to kill you... unless it's unintentionally - like, perhaps, by too much love, or perhaps too many orgasms..." Her lips twitched upwards as if she were trying not to smile. She shifted, took a breath. "Okay. Fuck. Okay, I'm mad to... to even do this. But okay." She took another breath and let out an explosive puff that kicked her curls away from her lips. She stared at me for a moment... then stepped forward and pulled me to her and hugged me fiercely; my pathetic bleat of need escaped me as I curled in against her with my heart thumping hard in my ears.

"Put something on," she whispered. She released me and stepped back so that she could look me up and down. "You may not get cold, but you're making me cold standing there naked like that. It's... too distracting. I'll... I'll just go to the market. It's just a little way back towards Predore and it... it should still be open. Would you like some wine as well? I mean... to share? With me?" "I would love to share wine with you. Especially if it is the red from Villa Elisa. Please," I said. "But... Dani, my money is in my chest. I have some Euros in me, and I could bring them here... but most of the coins I have in me are all far too old..." "You can talk to me and tell me everything, and then we will be even," she answered. "We can work the rest out later. Stay here. Don't move. I... I don't know how to find you if you're not here. I can't find you if you won't show yourself to me." "I will stay here," I said. "There is nowhere else for me to be. But for future reference - touch my waters and say my name and I will come to you. I will always, always come to you." She darted in; her kiss was brief and rushed, and her cheeks flushed hot as she broke away. "Stay here," she gasped again, desperately. "Please. Wait for me. And for the love of God put your dress back on, or I'm not going to be responsible for the consequences." I clothed myself in my tunic, and slowly lowered myself onto the sand; I felt entirely disturbed and deliciously light-headed; my lips still tingled from her touch. "I will be here," I whispered. Then I laughed sadly. "I have nowhere else I can be any more." She watched me for a moment longer before she turned and loped off into the gloom. A short time later a scooter coughed to life and roared off into the darkness; her trusty Lambretta carrying her through the night. And I closed my eyes and raised my face and let Selene's gentle approval wash me clean of my sadness. It seemed both ages and minutes before Daniella returned; she was breathing hard from running the short distance from where she'd parked.

She carried two small paper bags and wouldn't let me see what was in them. I tried not to show the relief I felt that she'd returned, that she hadn't reconsidered and simply elected to carry on running. It would have been the wiser choice, I thought. But my lover was impulsive. I stood and embraced her and felt the panted little curse she let out deep within me. "Where can we sit? That's secluded, I mean?" she gasped, shaking from her mad dash back. "This is... too open." I didn't even have to look. "Thirty strides that way is a spot between two junipers. The ground is dry and the pebbles are small and flat. It is too sandy for scorpions. It is sheltered and will still be warm there; you will not get cold." "But... what about you?" she asked as we began walking. "You're barely dressed. You'll catch a chill." "I don't feel the cold much. And I don't get ill. Not like you." "It must be nice. I hate being cold." "Oh... it has its perks. For example, I don't have to worry about nipple stand," I added, innocently. She scowled at me; I stared back. Her lips twitched; she was trying hard not to laugh. "I can't help it," she said. "It's just... how they are. Even when it's warm. And right now... well, you're a lot to blame. I hope the view is... nice, at least." "It is a nice view," I agreed. "Your breasts are lovely. They are almost my favourite part of you." "Stop that, Isea," she breathed. She moved in closer and barged me gently with her hip. "Stop putting thoughts into my head before we've... made up properly. You've got work to do before you can take liberties with me again. And so do I," she said, softer and rueful. She took a breath. "Where are we going?"

"Here. Look - watch out for that rock, it is loose. I caught her arm and steadied her, then helped her onto the soft silver sand. "... Oh. Oh Isea. This spot is beautiful. Oh holy Mary, this is..." She stared out in rapture at the moonlight on my waters, framed on either side by the ancient arms of the Junipers. "It is perfect," she whispered. "I like this place," I agreed. "At full moon I still come here sometimes. People used to get married here, on this part of the shore. I have many good memories of this place." She followed my slow steps down to the water's edge and sat down beside me. "If we're quiet, nobody will know we're here unless they stop and listen," I said. "The grass and the fall of the bank shelter us from view, and and the waves and the rustle of the trees and grasses muffles us. So..." "So we're completely screened?" she said, softly. "Nobody can see us? No matter what?" "Yes. We are alone..." I squeaked as she leaned in and kissed me, and writhed as she placed her hand deliberately on my upper inner thigh, her fingertips almost but not quite brushing against my mons. "Sorry... oh, oh wow, oh... sorry," she panted, when she finally released me. "It's just... I had to do that. I had to kiss you; I can't... I can't hold back. I know we need to talk, and I know it's all a mess..." Her words slowed and stopped as I leaned my head against her shoulder and slipped my hand into the warm, sheltered alcove of her lap. "I like how passionate you are," I whispered. "I like the fire in you. It's... nice. You're... nice. Oh, look," I laughed. "See, you disturbed my calm." She stared out at the gentle set of waves that were travelling outwards, away from shore. "Hah. Does that mean you... forgive me?" "I thought that was obvious, Daniella. It's you who needs to forgive me, now."

"I do. I forgive you, of course I forgive you... it's been awful. A disaster. I've been... crying like a girl, these past few nights." "Why?" I said. "Because. Because I thought... I thought I'd ruined everything. And I was so angry with you, and with me, and with... all of it. The strangeness - it terrified me, Isea. You're a goddess, for... for God's sake! All this still... terrifies me. All the old stories are true. All these unknowns are suddenly out there. But... but the worst...." She took a shuddering breath and scrabbled for my hand. "But... the worst was feeling that I'd... hurt you. I did hurt you," she added, as she brushed at the bruise on my cheek. "I can't... I can't believe I hit you. I will never, ever forgive myself..." "You didn't chase me away. I am the water, I always return to where I am wanted. If I'm permitted to," I added, softly. She made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I still think I may be going crazy," she whispered, after some time. "Perhaps. Perhaps you have to be a little insane to truly see what's there. The best priests were all as mad as snakes." "Thanks. I think." She leaned her head against mine and I sighed. "Isea?" "Yes?" "I have something for you," she said. "But first... you must close your eyes for me." "Why?" "Because I want you to." So I did as she asked. Paper rustled, and I felt her arms and shoulders moving as she shifted beside me. Then... the dimly-remembered scent of citrus on the night air. I couldn't help the sound I made, the little moan that escaped me.

"Oranges," I gasped. "You... you brought me oranges." She went still, then fumbled for and found my hand so that she could squeeze it hard. "And a pomegranate," she breathed. "The best one I could find. It is perfect and ripe. Here," she said, as she placed it in my hand. I took an agonised breath. She hardly knew me, and I'd lied to her, and been false... and yet she still brought me treasures fit for queens... "Oh. Oh, Dani..." I somehow managed, through the biting, cramping pain in my heart. To be blessed like this... I loved this woman with everything that I was. "But there's something else," she continued. "Here. I bought these for you. Smell this." I brushed my tears away and tried to calm myself as she lifted something and presented it to me. A new scent. Something sharp, something strange. Something I didn't know; something I couldn't place at all. "What is that?" I whispered, my throat still tight, my eyes still shimmering. "Passion fruit," she answered. "Here. Open your mouth and no peeking; there's enough light and I want to watch your expression... I have a spoon, it's plastic. Don't jerk, I don't want to spill..." And then golden fire and the fierce joy of Spring enfolded me. "Oh," I whispered, when I could. "You're... crying," she said. "Isea... why are you crying?" "It's... I'm..." "Come here. It's okay, I didn't mean..." And she gathered me onto her lap as I sobbed and clung to her. "Sorry," I managed at last. "It's just... it's so seldom I... encounter anything new. It has been so long. Thank you. Thank you," I gasped.

"Here," she said. "Here, wipe your eyes on this. So... you liked that?" "No," I whispered. "I adored it." I shuddered, curling my toes and twisting my ankles to try and distract myself from the tingles that were echoing and reverberating throughout me. "It... words... words aren't enough. Is... where is it? Can I see?" "There's not much to look at, especially in the dark. It's... bright yellow inside, like glistening liquid sunlight, and the outer skin is purple with strange green hues - a white fleshy pulp separates both. If you were to see it it uncut, it would look completely unappetising. But... open it, and the treasure is revealed. This is supposedly from the slopes of Stromboli itself, but that's probably a lie. But they are my favourite fruit." "They might be mine now too," I sighed. "Passion fruit. It is well-named. Is there... more?" "Yes. Here," she said, teeth white in the darkness as she smiled. "Oh. Oh, it is amazing. But... Daniella, sweetheart... don't you want some too?" "Mm. Do you know what? I think I do, yes." And then she leaned in and kissed me; I melted against her, forgetting all else but the sense of her against me. "There," she said, in a breathless whisper, once she was quite done with me. "Now I've had some as well." I started to giggle, and she started to laugh, and then, not very much later at all, she kissed me again. She held me to her for what felt like hours, and I could feel her pulse against me, the life within me thrumming tightly as she teased her fingers back and forth through my hair. She sang softly to me; her voice was low and smokey and utterly captivating, and I stared at the reflection of the moon-tinged juniper leaves in her eyes. But at last she began to shiver. "You should go," I said. "It is late. I wish I could walk you home, but... I think you live beyond my reach."

"I wish I could take you home with me," she whispered. "I wish I could wrap you in my arms and warm you and wake with you still there." "Mm." I reached out, trailed my fingertip along her eyebrow. She shifted, then groaned. "We need to plan better," she sighed. "I don't want a kink in my back every time I lie beside you." She rolled over and reached out, and the fingers of her hand slipped under the linen of my tunic and found and cupped my breast. I moaned softly, writhed against her as she slowly trailed her warm skin over me. "That is not fair," I panted. "You're... cheating. You said I had... work to do first..." "I fight dirty for the women I like," she whispered. She leaned in and kissed my throat. "I hope I'm making myself clear." "Crystal," I groaned. "And... and now you're going to send me out into the night... unsatisfied? Is that it?" "Fair is fair. I will be suffering too. Think of it as... penance. For your many... transgressions." "Oh. How long must I suffer?" "Until tomorrow. I must work. Perhaps afterwards... we could come back here, better prepared..." Her hand crept downwards over my belly; I shuddered. "I'd... like that," I gasped. "Dani, Dani, that is... no, you... oh. Oh..." "You always feel so good," she groaned. "So perfectly smooth, so hot, so wet. No! No, I will be good tonight." And she sighed and pulled away, leaving me panting as her hand gently brushed over and away from me. I sat up and stared down at her. Then I shivered, once; ripples spreading outward from the shore into my depths.

I stared at my lover, and sighed. "You are cold, I am distracted. Home is what waits for both of us. Come. I can wait a day for you. I can wait forever for you." I lifted her to her feet, and we picked up the peels of the oranges and the empty halves of the passion fruit that she'd fed me. She packed them and the remains of the glass jar of olives; the cheese and the bread she'd ravaged into one of the paper packets. She picked up the second and stood there, watching me for a moment. "My scooter is parked up on the road," she said. "If someone hasn't stolen it." "I will walk with you." I took her arm in mine and did just that. And I stood there in the moonlight, watching placidly as she pulled her helmet onto her head. "Thank you for... for being brave. For coming back to me. For... giving me a chance." "You are worth it. Don't ever lie to me again." "I won't. I can't." "Okay. See you tomorrow." "I can't wait." She kissed her fingers and reached out to touch my cheek, then turned and threw her leg over her rusty Lambretta. It coughed into life; she blew me another kiss and then eased off and away. "Thank you, Great mother," I whispered to Selene's waning face. I made my way home, skirting my waters and walking up the bank by my cave - still carrying the brown paper packet that held my precious Pomegranate. I placed the fruit on my bedside table. I squatted on my haunches in the sand, lit a small fire, and sat staring into it until it burned down to ashes. And then I crawled into the nest of blankets on my bed.

I fumbled my heart-stone in my hand and, clutching it tightly, fell down into deep, dreamless sleep. 🙙🝢🙛 The days became weeks, and she became the very center of my world. Every morning I'd wake, and eat a few grapes, and then carefully check whether any of the pomegranate seeds I'd planted had broken through the soil and into the light. Then I'd slowly make the rounds around my house, checking on all my plants, before I'd finally allow myself to make my way to the beach. And then I'd sit there on the sand, content to wait for her. Some days it would just be her, some days it would be the group. I was welcome among them, and I'd sit beside her and laugh and talk and thus, slowly, established myself as her partner - not just as her summer lover. Daniella would hold my hand - gently but constantly, and she'd often turn to smile at me as I or others were talking. But my favourite days were the days when it was just she and I. We'd grown comfortable with one another. Making love had become a game rather than a frantic expression of lust. I'd sit beside her, watching as the wind toyed with her curls. She had a way of smiling with her eyes that I adored, and she loved to listen to my little tales of the things that all the long ago people had done in and around me. And she'd started to come and spend nights with me - not every night, but enough to matter. She'd bring me wine and bread and fruits, and we'd sit in the firelight, thigh to warm thigh, and she'd feed me and I'd feed her, and once she was sated I'd tell her my tales until she kissed me to still me. And then her lips would move to other parts of me, and I'd tangle my fingers in her hair and scream her name. I could not ever remember being this happy; this at peace. Not even in the long-ago dawn of time, when I'd been young and the people who'd worshipped me had been even younger; when times had been simple

and I could roam the pine forests and the rolling meadows beyond the sunset. I felt loved. I felt... wanted. I felt that I belonged. And so, it seemed, did she. She began to bring me things - a potted plant from her parent's garden, a painting she'd done of sunset over hills I did not know, a small modern mirror... Little treasures, just for me. But one morning, maybe a month and a bit after we'd reconciled, she had something other than sun, water and sex on her mind. "You need to write your stories down, sweetheart," she proclaimed. "You should write that book you said you'd write." And I sighed, and mused on the idea. "I suppose I could. But... why?" "Other people would love to read it. And... I think it would be good for you. To... record some of your memories." "Mm. That's sombre." She leaned in and nuzzled my ear. "Think of Ovid," she said. "If he'd never written anything down, most of those stories would have been lost to us by now." "Mm. I'll... need to get paper, I suppose." "I'll bring you one of my notebooks and some pens," she said, enthusiasm pinking her cheeks. "You can dedicate your first book to me." "My first book, is it now?" "Yes," she laughed. "You tell beautiful stories. And I'd like having a book dedicated to me. Especially if it was yours. "

"Is a goddess who is dedicated to you not enough?" "Mm. I like having my own dedicated goddess. Especially when that goddess is a literal goddess like you. But... I'm nothing if not greedy," she added. "Greedy? Really?" I pushed her back into the sand; she squealed and laughed as I clambered onto her. "No! No, get off me!" she shrieked. She wriggled and fought, but I had her trapped under me, and soon enough she surrendered. "You think I'll give in? I'll never give in mfh..." I muffled her protests with my slow, languid kisses, and felt the way she reacted. arching her belly up against me. And then, pleased, I nestled in against her and laid my head on her arm. "That's... not fair..." she panted. "You're too distracting. Wow. I need to catch my breath now..." Her mood changed again; she was a changeable creature. I watched the grin fade and her eyes narrow and darken. She rolled over to stare at me. "Isea," she said. "Mm?" "My University term starts soon." "Oh. Really?" "Yes." I sighed. "How soon will I lose you?" "Ten days." "Oh." "What are you thinking?" she whispered, after I'd been silent for quite some time. "I'm... trying not to."

"Oh. So..." "I don't want you to leave me," I whispered. She leaned in to touch her head to mine; I shifted in tighter as she brushed my cheek with her finger. "I have to go back. That doesn't mean I want to. I don't want to leave you either. I wish I could pick you up and carry you with me." "My heart-stone cannot leave this valley. And I cannot leave without it now." She frowned. "Your... heart-stone? What do you mean? What is that?" "It's... call it my core. Or my soul. It holds my oldest name. Some...shaggy priest of the moon - back in the dawn of days - carved it onto a stone and threw it far out into the waters... and I was born. It cannot leave here or..." And I shrugged. I didn't need to say the words; she knew I meant that I would die. "Oh," she said, in a small voice. "So... so there's really no way? You're... trapped here? You're a prisoner?" "No. There is a way. There is a way I could leave." "What is it?" she demanded. "Tell me, please - let me help you!" I listened to the gentle ripples of my waves. I remembered the last time I had told a lover this. I remembered the... the hope I'd felt. And then, later, the crushing despair when she'd fled from me for the... familiarity of a human man. "Isea? What is it, sweetheart? You... you went so still there..." "I could... become mortal," I breathed, at last. She seemed to freeze. "What?"

"I could break my heart-stone. I'd... become a mortal woman. I'd age, and in the end I'd die." "You can do that?" she whispered. She sounded aghast at the idea. "Yes. Daphne did it. Long ago." The pain bit deep into my heart; I shuddered. "Daphne? Who was she?" "My sister," I somehow managed to say. And I had to squeeze my eyes tightly together against the stabbing agony of the memories. Daniella gently took my hand and held it to her, just above her heart. Her eyes were full of my reflected pain. "Tell me," she breathed. "She... broke her heart-stone for a young boy - the son of the Quaestor. But his father rejected their love match and threatened to disown his son. The boy was intended for the daughter of a wealthy family in Rome, see? Daphne..." I stopped, took a sobbing breath. "Daphne despaired, and drank hemlock and died - alone, on the banks of the river that was once her body. I couldn't get to her. I tried... but I couldn't get to her." "Oh Isea," she breathed. "Oh, I am so sorry..." I took a slow breath as I thought about my sister. Her gentle face, the jetblack hair, the green of her eyes. Still as clear as if it had been yesterday. Then I sighed it out. "Times have changed since then. Now, there is no escape for things like me, Dani. Apollo, Diana... even great Athena herself have passed on to wherever the Gods go when you forget them. They no longer roam the hills to save us by changing beings like us into a tree, or a rock, or a spring. If we take this step we must be sure, and we must chose wisely. Daphne... didn't. It is a bitter truth, but that is how it is."

"That is a... horrible choice," she said. "With... with nothing in life being certain, how could someone choose to do that..." "I would break my heart-stone for you, Dani." I heard the soft intake of her breath, felt the way she shuddered, the way her fingers tightened spasmodically against my ribs. "No," she whispered at last. "No. No way. I'm not worth that. I would never let you harm yourself like that for me. Never in a million years, Isea..." "It's not your choice. It's mine. And... I'm not saying I'm going to do it. Just that, for you - I would. I would become a mortal girl for you. " I felt her shudder again; I heard her working hard to swallow the tears. "Dani?" "Yes?" she sniffed, after a long, heavy silence. "How often will I see you once you leave this place?" She paused for a breath at most. "It's two and a half hours from Bologna by train and bus. I will come back every two weeks. I can't afford to do it more often." I sighed and moved in against her. "It's a poor comparison to every day, but far better than never." "It's easier for you. I'm the one who'd be leaving my heart behind in this valley." I opened my eyes and stared into hers. "What are you trying to tell me?" "I think... Isea, I think I love you," she whispered. "You... told me, wow, it feels like ages ago, that you would begin to lose your heart to me? Well... the same seems to be true. I think I love you. You've changed me, you've changed my life. You've shown me what it feels like to belong. So... I've never been in love before. But... I think I am, now." "I know I love you," I retorted. "But I'll forgive you your indecision for now," I teased.

I threw my arm over her and pulled myself in tightly against her. "You'd better keep your promise to come and visit me." "You'd better be waiting here for me when I do," she breathed. "You know I will be." I squeezed her once and released her. Then I sat up and shook the sand from myself. "Come swim with me," I said. "You meant, come swim in me," she pointed out. She sat up and wiped her eyes. "Stop being a pedant. And stop being difficult." "That's like... telling the sun to rise in the west. I am difficult, Isea. Very. But I do try my best not to be." I reached down and pulled her to her feet, then wrapped my arms around her and pressed in against her as she enfolded me in her embrace. "I'll help you," I whispered. We released one another, turned, and walked out into my waters. She laughed suddenly, and turned to me, smiling once more. "Isea... there's something I need to tell you that I just thought of. But it's very... inappropriate." "You can tell me anything, Dani. Especially if it's inappropriate." "Fine. Here it is. I just want you to know that it's... weird... knowing that you're beside me right now. But at the same time you're also slowly climbing up my inner thighs to my pussy. You're making me wet, Isea," she said, eyes wide and innocent. I snorted with laughter. "You're right; that was inappropriate. Oh well - I have always have liked touching you there. So... just take a hint and come inside me," I added, in a soft and sultry whisper, deliberately using the double entendre.

And she laughed, and leaned in to kiss me and, eventually, did as I'd suggested. Twice. 🙙🝢🙛 The days drew down. Mighty Helios climbed noticeably lower each noon. I kept a running tally of kisses, of embraces, storing them in some internal vessel to tide me over while she was gone. She brought me something on her final evening - a set of notebooks, some pens, and a worn hard-cover book - brown leather, decorated only with the silver-embossed title of "Odyssey" set into the cover page and the spine. Inside she'd written a brief, poignant message to me, closed with three X's that she told me stood for the kisses she'd be missing out on. I cried when she left; so did she. But I had her book as a keepsake of hers. I moped at first; sitting by the shore, staring out at my demesne, at a complete loss for the first time in my life. Daniella had wormed her way deep into me. I missed her with an intensity that I couldn't even put into cohesive thoughts, let alone words. And so one morning I began to read her book, and somehow the ancient names kindled something in me and inspired me to do as Dani had begged me to do. My story would die. The people who I'd known and loved would flicker out of history, their names never to be spoken again. I could take some small action to prevent that. So I took up a notebook and set pen to paper for the very first time. And the words began to flow from me. I slept, sometimes, and I daydreamed of my lover, but in between that the words poured out of me - about Tanaquil, my long-lost queen, and how she'd startled me one morning in the mist. How she'd known who and what I was from the first breath I'd spoken, and how we'd slowly

formed a friendship and then, later, an attachment that had lasted until the winter of her years had finally closed on her. I couched it all in fiction, of course. I embellished, took some minor liberties with timelines. I created a tale where no real complexity had really existed - Tanaquil had been competent and her rule had been secure. But, as Dani had told me, I was a good story-teller. And the days passed as in a slow dream. I missed my lover with a constant ache under my ribs, and in the dark nights of the new moon I'd lie awake, thinking of her eyes, and her lips, and her smile. I hoped she was thinking of me, somewhere out there, by the faint glimmer of the stars above us. And I agonised over what kind of future I might, perhaps, have with her. To walk Daphne's path was an act of madness - fraught with mortal peril. And yet... Daniella had come back to me. Despite my lies, despite the terror I'd caused her... she'd come back. I'd lie there, and stare at the angular runes on my heart-stone, and try to envision a life where I could walk the wide world under strange stars. Daphne's choice was deadly, no matter what occurred I would die at the end of it. But it offered me the chance of years of happiness before that day. If I stayed... Daniella would age, and wither; I would outlive her, and carry one more beautiful face onwards until I was no more. If I left... the risk was there that I would die alone. Selene's face was waxing to its first quarter on the night I reached my decision. I sat, sleepless by my water's edge. I was thinking of unlucky Ariadne, and the terrible, doomed desire for Theseus that had driven her to break her vows and flee the court of Minos...

Had she, too, been a prisoner? Had Theseus been her desperate method to escape? I doubted Ariadne had thought it worth it, when she stood, watching the sails of Theseus's ship drop over the horizon. I played with my nervous fingers, then raised my eyes to the Great Mother above us all. "What do I do?" I begged her. "If I stay here, I will fade in the end, whether this year or the next. If I go... I will die as a mortal - whether this year or the next. If I stay, I will see her - sometimes, until she grows old or... leaves me. If I go... it will be the same. What should I do?" Selene stared mournfully down at me. I sighed, then looked away. It was unfair to ask her to waste her strength on me. She'd already done too much... "If I leave," I whispered, "I will never be able to return. And I might end up like Daphne - living with regret until I cannot any longer. I adore Daniella. I... desire her. I want to be with her forever. I would give up everything for her. But... who can predict what next year will bring? But then again... that is their way, isn't it? They are such brief things, they burn like beacons and then..." ‷... do you love her, child?‴ My breath caught in my throat; I stared upwards at her, stunned and humbled that she spent so much to speak to me. "Yes," I breathed. "Yes, I do. With all that I am." ‷... then go, child. Live and love and know that I will love you still...‴ I clasped myself and sat there, too stunned to think or speak or move for what felt like an age of the world. Then, finally, I took a shuddering breath. I scrambled awkwardly to my knees and knelt and bowed low to her in gratitude. ‷... do not forget me...‴ she whispered. And I kissed my fingers and, sobbing, raised them up to her. "How could I?" I cried. "You are my mother, after all."

I stayed there, staring at her, until Selene's face had sunk below the western ridges. Then, tired and uncharacteristically chilled, I rose from my knees and made my way to my cave. I made my bed, and turned the blankets back against the cold of the night. I picked up my heart-stone and stared at the angular pictoglyphs chiselled roughly round the circumference of the the water-worn hole in the middle. My True name. My locus. My binding to this place. I closed my eyes, and thought of my lover, and broke my heart-stone in two. The snap was soft in the darkness, but carried a weighty finality nontheless. The chill of the night air suddenly stung my skin; the shadows outside darkened. I was instantly aware of every breath I drew, of the thumping of the heart beneath my breasts... Of the taste of the shrubs outside on the air, and the cold, implacable stone under my feet. Everything was real in a way it had never been before. I was mortal... and I was now truly alone. I lit my fire mechanically, and piled it high with the wood I'd gathered. The woodsmoke stung my eyes, and the flavours were rich and complex in the back of my throat. I ate grapes from my vines as my first human meal. I put the shards of my shattered heart-stone on my bedside table. And I crawled under my blankets and lay there, waiting for the future to find me... Sleep spread her cloak and enfolded me; I dreamed of arms around me, of warmth, of love and bitter tears... and roused in confusion; someone was shaking me, running their fingers over my shoulders and back and hair.

I snorted, groggy, trying to blink the unaccustomed grit out of my eyes. My mouth felt strange - dry. I was parched - a new sensation in a sea of other new sensations. "Dani?" I mumbled. "Is that you?" "Oh Isea," she moaned, her voice sick with misery. "Oh Holy Mary, Isea, what have you done?" "I broke my heart stone," I tried to explain. I fumbled sleepily out to my table to to nudge the shards with a finger. She slumped down onto the floor; tears ran down her cheeks. She knotted her fingers into the blankets and starred at me, her brow furrowed with despair. "Why? Oh God, why did you do this to yourself!" "I..." "What... what if I'm not what you think I am? What if I leave you? What if you leave me? Isea, you... you should have talked to me. We should have talked before... before..." "It's my life, Dani," I whispered. "At last. At last, I have the chance to... to go beyond the hills once more. I love this place but... but I want more before I fade. If that more is with you, I will die content. If... if you don't want me, that's okay too, I've made peace with the fact that that might be..." "Of course I still want you, you idiot," she hissed. She leaned forward and placed her head on my breast. I could feel her gulping, shuddering... I reached up and ran my fingers through her hair. "You're... an impetuous child," she rasped. "What if you'd died? Oh my God, Isea! You... you have to be careful now. You're human. You can't just... leap without looking any more, okay? Don't ever do anything this stupid ever again. Oh Dio santo, my heart, I feel ill..." "I promise," I said. She sniffed, then wiped her eyes. "Move over," she demanded. I tried my best, she shoved me roughly and wriggled me until I touched the cave wall.

"The stone is cold!" I protested. "That is one of the many, many things you're going to have to get used to now, I think. It's your own stupid fault." She pulled the blanket up over me, and wormed in close. "Idiot," she repeated, distraught. "Oh Gesù, you're freezing! Isea! What... what are we going to do now? You have no job, no money, nothing... you need to eat, you need... a phone, clothes... papers... dio porco, Isea..." Then she sighed, and took a breath. I felt the way she was shivering. "We'll... be okay," she whispered. "I'll take care of you. We'll be okay. It's okay. Somehow... I know we'll be okay. Come here. You're like ice; let me warm you." Sunlight lit the entrance of my cave. I could see what had once been my waters, dancing and rippling. I felt a profound sense of loss, and a strangely comforting, infinitely deeper and warmer sense of peace. I closed my eyes and moved in against her, and slowly drifted off in my lover's arms. And I slept until hunger woke me for the first time ever. 🙙 Epilogue 🙛 My phone rang Dani's ringtone. I groaned, looked up from the notepad, and stretched my neck. I peered downwards, pleased as always to see my beloved's face smiling up at me from behind the crystal face. picked the contraption up, and fumbled at it, and managed to answer on the second attempt. "Hey, babe," I said. "Hey, you. I was walking down the Via Clavature - you know there's a bookshop there, right?" "Mhmm?" I said, turning so that I could stare out over over the snowcrusted rooftops of Bologna. I twirled my ankles, pointed my toes,

enjoying the feeling of my muscles unclenching. "Libreria Nanni; I know it..." "I thought you might. So... I saw a book in the window - a new one, and it made me think of you. I sent you a picture, you really should be better at reading your messages, my love." I snorted. "I'm busy," I said. "I'm writing. You know, so I have a job, so I have money to pay for my upkeep..." She laughed. "Are you still going on about that?" I smiled. "Of course. It is a convenient stick to poke you with, my silly donkey." She laughed more loudly. "Donkey, is it? Ass. Read your messages, you wilful and disobedient girl," she said. "Oh in Selene's name... all right, all right. Hang on..." I poked and prodded at the still-sometimes-confusing device, and opened my chat with her. And stared. "Oh. Oh... it's finally there. Finally!" "Congratulations, my love! I've bought us some wine, tonight we're celebrating." "Okay," I laughed. "If you insist. I hope it's..." "Villa Elisa. Yes. Of course it is. Anyway... there's nothing else, I just wanted to phone you and hear your voice and show you this. I'm so proud of you. I love you forever, my goddess. Class finishes in in an hour and then I'll head home." "I will be waiting. I will always be waiting. I love you." "I love you too." And she hung up.

I leaned back into my chair and stared at the photo - my grinning lover's bright, wide-eyed smile, dramatic thumbs up, and next to her in the bookshop's window - my book. The Queen and the River's Daughter... by Isea di Lago. Fictional, of course. Well... mostly. I honestly would never have thought that the store of history locked up in my memories would be of any interest to anyone. But Daniella... and Bettina, and Maria, and Marco, and their families had all been fascinated by the things I could tell them of their home. And they'd all nagged and badgered me, my lover most of all, and made me write - sometimes bullying, sometimes bribing, but always with love in their hearts. And - so strangely, but just as my partner had told me - people seemed to want to read my stories. First they'd merely been "online" on the strange ghostly space Daniella called the Internet - posted up for all to see and for some to donate towards. But then I'd been contacted by an agent in Turin who'd seen something in what I was writing, and who had linked me to the publisher who went on to commission my first complete tale. And now - as Daniella had so laughingly predicted all those months ago - I was working on a second. I glanced around - at our small, cramped but cosy apartment that we'd somehow manage to scrounge together. A photo of the waxing moon over Lake Iseo hung in my writing corner. Pebbles from the lake shores acted as book-ends on my bookshelf. The shards of my heart stone stood in a little carved box that Daniella had found for me at some strange alley market... And my pomegranate tree stood in a carefully-insulated corner; the sparse remaining winter leaves dark and waxy as the life within hibernated in hope of the warmth of spring. I sighed, content.

I'd never needed much; I just needed a bit more these days than I had used to. But with my lover, I had all I wanted. She held me at night, and kept me warm, and between her tutoring and my writing we fed ourselves and had enough to put a little away as well. She would be home soon. The heat was already building within me. I would take her in my arms, and kiss her, and strip her and make love to her. And then, only then, would I permit her to feed me. I smiled. Outside, the sun was setting somewhere behind the blanket of clouds. Soon, my mother would rise and cast her gaze over the foaming sea high above us. I would stand by the window and stare up at her hidden face, then raise my arms in praise as I always did. She would not answer, but I did not care, I would never stop singing my song of praise. And then, finally, I would return to the embrace of my lover's arms. It was bittersweet, this human life - full of small victories and great setbacks. But for all that I would not change my choice. I had succeeded where my poor, tragic sister had not. I had Daniella, and her love. I had my freedom, and the years that were left to me. And they would be blessed.

The End.