“No. Don’t be. It was… it was nice. Really nice. Your kisses, your body… it’s… I’m… I’m just… I don’t think…”
“Mm. It’s a real pity,” she whispered. “Because you’re very much my type. Gosh, you’re so very, very much my type. Oh well. Such is life, right? Right, let’s stop scandalising the fish.”
“We’ve got more wine,” I managed. “I’m not ready to go to sleep just yet. Please come back with me? Please don’t leave me now, Charley.”
She sighed.
“Like I could ever do that,” she said, so softly I almost didn’t hear it.
We returned to the beach, tugged our clothes onto our wet bodies, and made our slow, silent way back up the hill.
She clung tightly to my hand on the walk back to my chalet, and despite the weirdness of what we’d just done, the idea of letting go never once crossed my mind.
I fought the door open for us, and she made her way directly to the bathroom for a quick shower before handing the bathroom off to me as I followed suit.
By the time I emerged she’d poured a glass of wine for me and another for her. She put mine down on the kitchen counter for me, then took my hand in hers once more.
“Ari?” she said softly, as she played nervously with my fingers.
“Mhmm?”
“You sure you’re okay? With… that?” she whispered. “It was a moment of lunacy; I shouldn’t have done it and I’m… I’m really sorry for it.”
“It’s fine, Charley, I’m fine. I promise. It was just… weird, but nice weird, if you get it?”
She let out a sigh of relief.
“Kind of. I think.”
I tightened the towel around myself; she still looked worried and unconvinced, so I did what I could to help.
“It… it was very nice… to be touched like that. By you. I think any other person would have jumped at the chance, you know. It’s… comforting to be wanted, for once, even if I’m… unable.”
“But… why are you?” she said, almost plaintively.
“I guess… I just have issues, is all. Something’s screwy upstairs. I wish I knew what it was. But it was very nice. It was so very, very nice to be held like that. By you, I mean,” I added, stumbling slightly over the words.
“Mm. Well, I’ll behave from now on,” she said with a shy little smile. “I promise. I’ll make do with what I’ve got.”
“And that is?”
“An object of visual gratification rather than sexual,” she leered.
“I don’t feel very visually gratifying,” I muttered.
“Oh, trust me, you are. With spades. Those curls and those eyes of yours are to die for, and your bum is, quite frankly, wonderful. If you were so inclined you’d have more sex than your body could handle, that’s for sure…”
“My breasts are small and my hips are barely there…”
“Nonsense,” she said. “I love all of you. You are perfect. They are yours and they are perfect for you. You are one million percent perfect.”
“Really?” I said, flushing and not quite believing her.
“Oh fuck me, yes,” she breathed. She cocked her head to one side and grinned at me. “You’re an eleven out of ten on my scale, Ari. You always have been. Honest to God. Who’d have thought, all those years ago, that I’d end up with you as the one that got away.”
“Well… I kind of did. So did you. In a different sense of the word,” I added, flailing. “Thank fuck you so doggedly kept on coming here.”
“I’m glad I was so stubborn. Mm. This wine is nicer than the others were. I’m going to be rolling home.”
“You could always stay, you know,” I offered. “It’s a king-sized bed.”
“That could cause us… issues, now,” she said softly.
“What sort of issues?”
“The sort that involve me not sleeping very much at all and it getting… awkward for us both.”
“Oh. That’s a shame,” I sighed. “I imagine that I would sleep very well with you nearby. I’ve never got to fall asleep next to anyone before…”
“You’re making a very strong argument and I have woeful impulse control as far as you’re concerned.”
“So is that a yes?”
“I have nothing to sleep in…”
“I’m sure I can find you something. And anyway, you seem totally happy naked so I’m not sure what you’re protesting about.”
“Oh, you slag,” she snorted. “Fine. Okay. I’ll stay for now, but if it becomes… problematic…”
“Then I’ll move out to a deckchair and leave you the bed as a mea culpa,” I said with a wry grin.
She laughed. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”
She held out her glass. “Top me up, buttercup. God, it was dull and grey without you in my life.”
“I’m yours and yours alone until you leave,” I said.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said softly, after a brief, heavy silence.
And I sipped my wine and looked away, feeling somehow ashamed.
.:.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“Yeah, just settling. Not used to leggings that go down past my knees, and your vest is a bit tight on my boobs.”
“Not my fault you’re short and curvy.”
“Shush, or I’ll bite you in the shins.”
The mattress shifted as she moved. I shivered as she put an arm around me and pushed in closer.
“Is that… okay?” she breathed as she felt my response. “Do you mind?”
“It’s… I’m just not used to being held like this.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll stop…”
“No! No. Don’t. It’s… it’s really nice to feel you there. So close to me. You’re so… oh, God, you’re so lovely and warm.”
“Okay then. Apology accepted. ”
She burrowed in and let out a soft sigh.
“I always forget just how amazing you smell,” she whispered.
“Salt and fish wee,” I quavered, captivated by the unfamiliar feelings that swept over me.
“Oh, is that what it is?” she answered, amused. “I’ll have to get it bottled so I can spray Eau de Ari around my flat.”
I laughed, and adjusted her arm slightly until it fitted comfortably under my boobs, such as they were.
She made a small, happy sound.
“Good night, Ari,” she breathed.
I covered her hand with mine. “Good night, you. Sweet dreams.”
“Mm,” she agreed as she settled in against me.
I lay, breathing gently as I listened to her drift off. Once she was thoroughly asleep I eased the sheets and thin coverlet slightly further up over us; the air was finally starting to cool and I didn’t want her to get cold.
Then I simply lounged there, basking against her while I tried to puzzle out my earlier reaction to her.
I tried to work out why I was so content in her arms, yet had been so… conflicted over what we’d almost done, out there in the dark water of the bay.
Why had I reacted to her touch so… wantonly? Why hadn’t I really wanted her to stop?
And why had I stopped her in the end? Nerves? Contrariness? It hadn’t been lack of desire – her touch had been a surge of electricity, tripping fuses all over my body, and only one knife edge had separated me from complete, abject surrender…
I shifted; she mumbled and moved her leg against mine.
She was so… nice.
Her gentle kiss to my neck had been just perfect, and the feel of her naked skin against mine had… captured me in a way I didn’t understand and could not remember feeling before.
I thought back to my few, abortive sexual “experiences” – for want of a better label for them. I’d always ended up as a mostly passive participant once the flirting and kissing was over- an empty vessel to receive the penis that one or another horny man fumbled into me. I’d never struggled to be wet for them, at least – it was just… never all that much fun – certainly never as much fun as porn or fantasy implied it should be. A few moments of somewhat pleasant fullness and sensation of movement inside me, some panting in my ear, maybe their tongue on my nipples if I were extremely lucky. Nothing like the mind-bending orgasms I so enjoyed giving myself or, frequently, delighted in watching anonymous women have during my frustrated online travels.
And then, of course, there was their inevitable reward – a brief, groaning pulsing inside me followed by an immediate cooling of their ardour as they noticed and processed my… disinterest.
None had ever wanted to stay; even the least observant picked up on my faint disgust with the whole matter and ejected as soon as they physically could.
I’d show them out of my flat and listen to their lying little I’ll-call-you’s with silent, grim amusement before I’d retreat to my shower to wash them and their leavings out of me.
Semen was gross, and semen inside me was grosser by far – but I still found both preferable to the cloying, nauseating smell of latex and spermicide.
And afterwards?
Mostly I’d be left feeling empty and cold, sitting curled up on my couch and deeply regretting whatever brief moment of shared interest or, sometimes, mere animal lust had driven me to permit them inside me, however briefly.
Empty. Jaded. And always, at last… alone.
I certainly never felt anything remotely like I felt right now – warm and safe, blissfully content in her arms.
Her breath curled softly over my shoulder; she mumbled something incoherent and sighed in her sleep.
I thought about what she’d told me about her preferences. How she’d so freely confessed her… appreciation… of me.
Her desire for me.
I wondered how she’d worked out what she was.
And I resolved to ask her in the morning once we were both awake and sober.
She started to snore, very softly, and I smiled to myself at the stupid, soppy affection the innocent sound aroused in me.
She’d grown up beautiful and gentle.
I was so very, very thankful that we’d found one another again.
I yawned.
“Not… the floaty one,” she slurred. “Too purple.”
She rolled away from me and curled up on her other side, grumbling.
After a moment’s hesitation I rolled over and put my arm over her. I tucked my face in against her back and closed my eyes.