Sapphic Voices General Fiction

A Town Big Enough For Both Of Us

Chapter 2

This Story is rated 'Adults Only'.

I was in Just Tunes, my local record store. It stocked a lot of good music and the bloke behind the counter usually had a recommendation or two. In fact, he found good music faster than I could earn the cash to buy it with. I wondered how he did it. Today, however, I wasn’t in the mood to dive into the usual musical-chatter and instead decided to browse through the bargain racks at the opposite side of the store.

I dived into the CDs, absorbing myself in them, wishing I had the coin laying around in my bank to buy a couple of classics I really should have owned but didn’t. I was struggling mentally with a few sums to see if I could juggle enough to afford a couple of purchases when a flash of blue in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. Puzzled, I stood up fully, still frowning with confusion, mostly due to maths never having been a strong point of mine and my income being something I didn’t particularly care to think about. About three isles down from me stood a girl, around my age, and I realised it was her hair that had startled me. It was short and neat, mostly bleached with a few spatterings of colour, neon blue mostly. She wore a faded pair of jeans, black, and a vest-top which, to be honest, must have seen better days. Her eyes were deep brown, housed behind thick-framed black glasses.

I must have been staring a little, because just then she turned looked up, caught my eye and turned to look at the rack of CDs behind her. She sported a huge tribal tattoo, which wound around her shoulder in black and red ink. Nice, I thought.

“Excuse me,” she said, “Do you know if these are all in the sale?”

I almost had to steady myself against the nearest shelf. She had the most beautiful Australian accent, which nearly knocked me flat, despite delicately floating its way through the air. Obviously this girl had an effect on me- whoever heard of a delicate Australian?

“Erm…” I spluttered, “I think they’re all okay, but check this out… I doubt you’ll get this album cheaper. If you’ve got the cash, I’d say get it.” There I went again. Talking music to complete strangers. Idiot.

Lena, as her name turned out to be, couldn’t afford to buy yet another album. She could, however, afford to be shown around the town centre and didn’t seem to notice my irritating musical ramblings. She had just moved into a flat about five minutes away from my own and was due to stay for the next six months. She worked in construction (although the initial hazy images of her sweating away on a work site were shattered when she explained that her job was to distribute unassigned labourers to various places from the confines an office). I offered my services as guide and she accepted.

We wandered around the town for half an hour or so until we hopped into a cafe for a coffee.

“It’s so quiet around here, I love it. How long have you lived here?” She asked.

“Well, I’ve lived in various places in town over the last three years but I’ve finally found a place that I really like. I used to live with friends until last month, when I got place on my own. Miles doesn’t mind, really, but I think he misses me being around all the time.”

“Miles?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s my best friend. We’ve known each other forever. We moved around the town together. In fact, we went to school together. Grew up together. Lovely guy when you know him.” Isn’t that just the strength of it, I thought.

“I’d like to meet this Miles. I mean, I’m sorry. I’d like to make some friends around here and if your friends are anything like you, that sounds like fun.”

I sipped my coffee in an attempt to seem nonchalant. “Well, we’re actually going out for a drink tonight. You’re more than welcome to come along. The pub by my flat is usually quite fun. But really, Miles is an odd one.”

“I’d like that,” she said, and smiled. Her teeth were nicely set, not quite perfect, and very white.

“Great!” I said, a little too excitedly. “I mean, I’ll meet you at The Sun at around seven-thirty then. That ok?”

Her smile widened, somehow, and now she sipped her coffee. “Okay, seven-thirty it is. I haven’t been in there yet but I’ve been meaning to. Seems like the perfect opportunity both to explore and to enjoy myself a little.”

We spent the next two hours together, sprawled across the grass in the park. She was twenty-three and had moved from her parents’ house in Canberra to Sydney at the age of nineteen to have some fun and pursue some artistic dream, the details of which she didn’t enter into.

“It just seems so silly to think I really believed I could make anything happen, especially there. I did all sorts: painted, wrote, I even sang a little. It’s still my dream but you know how it is, it all seems so childish now.”

I did know how she felt. I’d spent a good year of my life slaving over what I thought would be a groundbreaking piece of literary mastery, only to have it shot down by every publisher that I could persuade to glance at it. “Do you still paint? I mean, you do still keep up with it all, don’t you?”

“Sure, from time to time. I’m under no illusions, though. You can’t just want something enough to make it happen. It’s all so fickle. Art isn’t about talent; it isn’t even about… being artistic. It’s about some nob with a fat back pocket looking to feed it some more. It’s stupid to even consider being able to make a living from it without becoming the most ridiculous jerk with your head shoved up so far your backside you’d be lucky to survive with a snorkel. And even that’s no guarantee.”

I was getting used to the delicate manner in which she described things.

“That’s ‘Art’ for you, eh?” I shrugged. “So if that didn’t work out, what else did you do? I still don’t see why you’d move here from Sydney. It just doesn’t compute.”

She explained that she had worked with a couple of friends, running some website that dealt with to-the-second traffic reports, and earning enough to fund her for a year of travelling. She had been everywhere, seen everything, when she arrived in England. As soon as she stepped off the plane, she was hooked.

“I don’t know, it was just something about the landscape. It’s everything I ever expected it to be, but it just has this… something. It’s so bleak in the most amazing way, and it just… sits there. Oh, you’re English, you must know what I mean.”

“I’d not be too sure on that one, Lena,” I laughed. “I don’t think most English-folk are too excited by the cold and drizzle.”

“That’s because they live here. Can’t see the wood for the trees. It’s a shame, really. But if the people were any less miserable, I’d be totally disappointed. You miserable gits really make my day.”

---

“Hey, slow down, Alice, I didn’t catch a word of that.”

“Yes, well, try putting your computer games down for a second and maybe you’d be able to keep up. I said, she’s gorgeous and she’s coming for a drink tonight. She even comes with a sexy little accent. She’s from Sydney. You’ll like her. Seemed quite interested in meeting you, actually. So The Sun around seven? I think I need a drink or two before she arrives. God, if she wasn’t so easy to talk to I’d be filling my pants right now. I mean, you know how bad I was when I first met Jane? It’s like someone took that and added some chilli powder and shook it up and-”

“Okay, Alice! So I take it you’ve spent your day off productively and ended up with another sickening crush. Is she into you? I mean, is she… a filthy dyke like you?”

I laughed. “I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, who really knows with these Australians… and maybe that’s all it was.”

“You think you mistook her being Australian for her being gay?”

“No, Miles, shut up. Oh, but she’s got this fantastic tattoo… Forget what I said earlier, Miles, I am filling my pants!”

Miles snorted down the phone. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. Seven? I’ll come collect you on my way past. Just keep it cool, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Oh, and pack some extra undies if you’re really that worried about it.”

---

The pub was fairly empty. Saturday nights were usually packed-out but tonight there was no band scheduled, which was what usually drew the crowds. Miles and I settled at a table set just so, in clear view of the door yet private enough to sit and chat without worrying about being bothered by whichever yobs decided to barge past towards the pool table. I glanced at the clock, sipped my beer and couldn’t help but giggle to myself, the palm of my hand over my eyes.

“What’s funny?” asked Miles.

I scratched the back of my neck. “I’m just an idiot, there’s nothing to be scared of. She’s just… a girl. And this isn’t a date.” I lit a cigarette. “This isn’t a date.”

Miles rolled his eyes and grinned, shaking his head. He put up with most of my ramblings, usually about fruitless dates or crushes that I’d developed on unattainable women. It worked both ways: when we were sharing a house I’d be ready with a cup of tea and a fag whenever he flopped down on the sofa and sighed the unmistakable ‘shoot me, women are evil’ sigh. We were both pretty useless when it came to it.

In truth, we didn’t particularly mind. Being with Jane had almost put me off for good. It was only a lucky drunken kiss with a cute little blonde from my office that had kept my interest afloat. As for Miles, there were a number of people he would mess around with from time to time and, although he insisted anything but, I think he was quite soft on one of them. Don’t get me wrong, though: for Miles to be ‘soft’ on someone meant that he called them by their real name most of the time, rather than the hilarious derogatory nicknames we loved to dream up. Between the two of us, we pretty much had it cracked.

I finished my pint, which, I noticed, I’d thrown down my neck at light-speed. This is so typical of you, I thought. You have to escalate situations into things they aren’t. You always blow things well out of proportion. You had coffee, not sex.

I bumped into Craig and Marie at the bar. They were practically married and, when they weren’t trying to rip each other’s eyes out, were sickeningly happy together. Despite the fights, they complimented each other perfectly. Craig was twenty-three and training to be a teacher. Marie was twenty-five and managed a clothing shop in the next town. They had lived together for the last year. That is, if you don’t count the few weeks strewn about when one or the other would march out and kip on someone else’s sofa until they resumed their happy, loved-up status.

“Hey, Alice, what you drinking? Not seen you for a while, you get lost in that record store or something?” said Craig.

“Yeah, something like that. Mine’s another Murphys, thanks.” I winked at Marie. “So, gorgeous, how are the kids?”

She threw me a sarcastic smile. “You just get funnier and funnier, you know. Now shut up and drink up.” She scowled slightly. “Oh, where’s Miles? Don’t tell me you’ve left his side for the first time in twenty years?”

“He’s over at the table. Not quite keeping up with me tonight, but from the way he’s been mumbling, I imagine he’s way off in zero gravity somewhere - caught him having a spliff outside. It’ll be another hour before he gets anywhere near the bar again. Let’s go find him before he gets bored and finds some intellectually-challenged blonde with more brain cells than skirt.”

I picked up my drink and scanned the rest of the bar area for the others I had arranged to meet. Nobody yet, but my friends weren’t exactly known for their punctuality. I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray on the bar and walked around the corner, back towards the table where I had left Miles. It was true; we were always together, even when we went out at night. We were a duo: everybody knew that where one went, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Tonight, however, he appeared to be floating off over Saturn, thanks to what must have been, I imagined, a fair smoke.

“Jesus, has Miles bought some taste since I last saw him?” Craig was a few steps in front of me and had a clear view of the table.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” I asked, and looked over his shoulder. My heart almost stopped. Sitting in the seat where I had left my jacket, phone and packet of cigarettes was Lena, across the table from Miles. I was totally confused.

“Lena, how…?” I spluttered, immediately trying to cover all traces of said splutteryness.

She shot me one of her unnaturally-broad grins and chuckled. Miles drummed his fingertips on the tabletop and whistled, feigning ignorance.

“It appears my reputation has preceded me! I walked in here and bang, one of the first welcoming English people I’ve met up here.” She said, still grinning.

Miles took over. “Well, I didn’t recall seeing any other attractive Ozzies around here recently so I guessed, and quite correctly, that this must be the famous Lena.”

You bastard, I thought. You absolute bastard, so much for trying to play it cool. I popped my drink down on the table and slid into the chair next to her, shouting in my head to regain my composure and laugh it off. Yes, Miles, you’re one funny bastard. “Well, that’s one less introduction to have to bother with.” I laughed. A little too much? More than likely. “But Lena, this is Craig, who I used to live with, and this is Marie, his girlfriend.”

She offered a cute little wave in way of friendship. “Good to meet you guys. Not meaning to be rude but I’m dying for a drink so I’m just gonna hop off to the bar.”

We all smiled as she sauntered off round the corner. As soon as she was out of sight, I turned on Miles.

“You arse!” I clouted him round the back of the head. “What did you do that for?”

Miles tried to look sheepish but couldn’t keep the amusement from his face. “Well, she didn’t run screaming when I told her you’d described a gorgeous blonde that we were due to meet…” He chuckled at the outrage that spread across my face. “And she seems really friendly. A good choice, my good fellow.” His faced creased up and he began to giggle pretty violently, his shoulders jumping up and down as he slid further down in his chair. “Should’ve seen your face!”

Craig and Marie looked as perplexed as each other.

“What’s the deal here, then? I’m lost,” said Marie, her hands on her hips as she waited for Craig to stop messing around with his coat and sit himself down.

“She’s just some girl I met today in town. I asked her out for a drink…” I shot Miles my best dirty look. “… because she doesn’t know anybody. And yes, I think she’s hot, but she seems really nice and the last thing I want is Miles scaring her off for me!”

“To be honest,” Craig commented, “I think you’re usually more than capable of doing that yourself.”

“Thanks a lot, it’s nice to know my friends have faith in my abilities. Anyway, she’s coming back. So just shut your mouth, Miles.”

Lena sat back down and, once again, Miles started giggling. I gave him the customary kick in the shin under the table. He jerked up straight and cleared his throat.

“So how did you two meet?” Craig asked, and reached for Marie’s hand.

“You don’t work together, do you?” asked Marie, and swatted Craig’s hand away without a side-ways glance.

“I wish…” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth. Two drinks. Two drinks and you can’t stop yourself being a fool.

Lena grinned. Maybe she hadn’t noticed the pathetic longing in my last utterance. “No,” she said. “We met in that funny little music shop.” She clicked her fingers and tried to remember the name.

“… Just Tunes,” said Marie. “Why am I not surprised. I think she keeps that place open.”

I grinned. “Lena here saved me from buying half the shop today.”

“I can’t really take credit for anything, to be fair,” Offered Lena. “She just snapped me up and insisted that she showed me around.”

“And where did our expert guide here take you?” asked Craig, now sitting a purposeful half meter away from Marie and looking rather uncomfortable in his seat. Marie had her legs crossed and pointed away from him.

“Well, we had a coffee… and we sat in the park… other than that it was just which thrift stores are best for what, where the cheapest take-aways are, which street corners to avoid cider-swilling youths on, quite a nice insight. I should’ve taken notes.” She grinned and poked me with her elbow.

I had the image in my head already. Me, babbling on, nervous as hell and trying to hide my stutter, blurting out any old silly thing that entered my head as I tried to find a reason for taking her down every road in the centre of town. If there were a prize for Biggest Idiot in Company of Girls, well… you get the picture. But still, she’d turned up this evening and was chatting away with my mates. I couldn’t have been that bad. Either that or she was just very, very nice and very, very bored.

Soon Lena and Miles decided to battle their way to the pool table and entered into a savage head-to-head. Miles was competitive but never in any fit state to play, tonight being no exception. He was beaten hands-down three times before he admitted defeat.

During their gruelling matches, I took the time to catch up with Craig and Marie who, with an amazing use of no words or outward signs, had decided during the brief conversation with Lena that they weren’t talking to each other.

“So… everything’s good? Have you got your new car yet?” I asked, having stopped feeling uncomfortable around the squabbling couple long ago.

Marie rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, it’s dead good. Flies. Makes the old Punto seem like a Nova… or maybe even a 2CV. Driving over to Wales for work mid-week, I can’t wait. Nothing better than a long drive on your own to keep yourself sane,” Craig said, glaring at Marie out of the corner of his eye. “You still in that battered little Fiesta?”

“Battered little Fiesta? You drove a Fiat for two years and you’re taking the piss out of my car?” I laughed. I didn’t mind. It was ancient and creaked on hot days.

Marie leant forward to speak, making sure she didn’t look at Craig. “Cars are cars. I don’t see what the problem is. I’d rather have an old banger and keep the rest of the money.”

Craig pressed his lips together and I counted one, two, three calming breaths… I took my cue and excused myself quickly.

Having scarpered from the scene of imminent argument, I hopped over to the pool table just in time to witness Lena’s triumphant victory and exquisite little celebratory dance, which, I must admit, I did find myself a little turned-on by.

“Balls to this, I’m going outside. Catch you in a bit.” Miles muttered, not enjoying his defeat.

“Good work, bud,” I smiled, nodding approvingly. “He’s such a sore loser. Can’t stand to be beaten at anything, it’s hilarious. You coming to the bar?”

Despite the pub being nowhere near as busy as the usual Saturday night madness, we still found ourselves wading through a three-man-deep queue (I assumed most of them were men- but I could never be quite sure in this town). We elbowed our way to the front (not without difficultly) and amused ourselves for the ten minutes we were waiting by singing loudly to the juke box.

“Ha! What a team, we should be professionals,” she said, after a particularly horrible harmony we had created.

“Or shot, maybe!” I laughed. “Oh, for god’s sake… I demand to have some booze!!” I shouted, slamming my fists down on the edge of the bar, causing Lena to burst into a fit of giggles.

“You’re so… English.”

“What, you mean drab and miserable? Cheers, real compliment.”

She giggled again (which was a fantastic sound, all high and girly), and this time she threw her arm around my shoulder. “Definitely. That’s what I look for in a person.”

I grinned at her, trying to act cool and breezy as she relinquished the oh-so-exciting contact. We were silent for the next few moments. Her hand was resting on the bar, not far from mine. Right, I thought. I moved my hand a little closer, and hers stayed where it was. We both had our eyes fixed primarily on the bar staff, but then I was sure I thought I noticed her stand a little closer to me, and I shifted my hand towards hers again. No movement. I glanced at her. She caught my eye, and put her hand over my hand. I bit my lip to hide the massive grin that threatened to betray what I wanted to think was my super-cool exterior. She smiled back at me, and gave me a wink. Intuition, I knew it.

We bought our drinks and I was barely able to control myself. I was starting to get nervous, in an excited kind of way, and hoped more than anything that I hadn’t done a Classic Alice and misread the situation, just like all those years ago with the football team at school. But I don’t like to talk about that.

Just as we’d sat down, Miles threw open the door and staggered over. We were no longer hand-in-hand, but dammit, I was in there!

“I am so fucked. See you in about a week when I can see again.” With that, he left, adding a little nod and eyebrow wiggle in my direction as he walked through the door. He probably thought it discreet. Nobody in the pub could help but notice the stumble that followed it and his delicate cursing as he smacked his head on the doorframe.

“Your friend’s very ceremonious. And terrible at pool!” Lena laughed.

“I know, bless him. He’s actually very good at pool, he’s just no good at being sober enough to see what he’s doing. I doubt he even knows he’s playing pool most of the time.”

She grinned again, and reached into her pocket. “Oh Jesus,” she said. “I’ve left my cigarettes somewhere. Could I bum one off you?”

Once again, I kicked myself. I’d just smoked my last one. If anything, I was relying on her to provide them for the next little while. “Bum? No. All gone. I was going to walk over to the shop to grab some after this, anyway. Fancy a bit of a walk? Or we could spend a fiver on sixteen whole Marlboro Lights from the machine over there.”

She agreed that the shop was a better idea and after finishing our drinks, during which I dread to think of the rubbish that poured out of my mouth, we grabbed our coats and headed for the door. Craig and Marie had bickered their way home earlier, by the looks of it, so we waved to the bar staff and exited.

Once outside, I offered Lena my arm, and pointed extravagantly. “This way, fair maiden!”

She wound her arm under mine and as it was a pretty cold night, she huddled closely to me. About twenty metres down the road, she stopped dead.

“Alice,” she said, possibly for the first time, and I noticed how great it sounded with her accent. I had a cool name, no doubt about it. She turned towards me, sporting a little sideways smile and looking at the floor, and she bit her lower lip. She started chuckling, quite differently from before in that this time her shoulders moved but she barely made a sound. She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow, still with the little smile on her face, then leant towards me…

I grinned for the thousandth time that evening, the majority of which had been directed at (or as a result of) her. Kissing Lena was amazing. She was slow and gentle, and she (quite bravely) ran her hand up through my out-of-control hair. We stayed there in the street for a good fifteen minutes, devouring each other; we may have started delicately, but before long we were close to ripping each other’s clothes off by the main road. I broke away.

“Hmm. Yeah. So, those smokes?” she said, wrapping an arm around my waist.

In return, I placed my arm about her shoulder and led her off towards the shop. We bought our cigarettes and I offered her the opportunity to drink herself stupid with me at my place rather than head back to the pub.

I pushed open the door and threw my jacket over the back of the sofa. Suddenly it crossed my mind that I could have at least tidied up a little before going out, but Lena didn’t seem to mind or even notice the mess.

“This is lovely… plenty of space for just one of you. Even a twenty stone one of you.”

I shook my head and chuckled. “You have the most delicate way of expressing yourself. Anyway, the toilet’s just through there to the right if you need it. Think I’ve got a bottle of wine in here somewhere…” I opened the bottle of red and poured a couple of glasses while she went in search of the loo. I put the glasses down on the table and walked over to the CD player. I decided that Tori Amos wouldn’t be too outlandish for the situation, and just as I pressed play, I felt a hand slide up around my waist, just underneath my shirt. I jumped, but felt an arousing tingle travel from the balls of my feet to the top of my head.

Lena had crept back into the room. She smiled to see me startled, and all I could do was stare at her, breathing deeply.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she whispered, her mouth right next to my ear. I could tell she was trying to keep a straight face, and narrowed her eyes. “Where’ve you been all my life, lover?”

She pulled me round to face her properly, her hand still touching my skin, and placed her other hand on my hip. Again she leant in to whisper.

“Good choice, by the way. I love Tori.”

I was kissing her again. It started softly, Lena running the flat of her palm further up my back and pulling me closer. I took yet another deep breath and lunged in, tugging at her vest, bringing her as close as she could get. It wasn’t close enough.

She obviously felt the same way as I did. She clutched her vest and brought it up over her head. The whole movement took a split second and then she was back against me, kissing and clinging to me.

My hands made their way into her hair, grasping involuntarily, and I scraped the nails of one hand delicately down her neck, her shoulders, her back. My knees almost buckled as she sighed and, in response, she started to undo the buttons of my shirt.

She almost tore the offending garment off me. This time, however, she didn’t kiss me again. She took me by the hand and started to lead me off towards my bedroom, flicking her hair (which didn’t move an inch) as she spun around on the spot. She opened the door before stopping and turning to face me. This time she didn’t smile. She raised an eyebrow, narrowed her eyes and beckoned to me with one finger. I sauntered into the room myself, and she tossed me onto the bed with a violent shove.

---

The next morning I woke up and discovered upon attempting to walk to the bathroom that none of my muscles were very happy with me. I ached from head to toe, and my pathetic whimpering woke Lena up.

“What’s with the screeching, babe?” She asked, sleepily. She opened her eyes fully. “And why on earth are you wearing a dressing gown? I demand you take it off right now.” Her teasing outburst proved too much for her and she herself winced, flopping her head back onto the pillow. “Just hurry up and get back here.”

In the bathroom I spent a good few seconds smiling triumphantly at myself in the mirror. It’d been a while since someone had tested me the way she had. I suddenly thought of Jane. We’d spent many happy hours in that same bed, and many more in the various flats and houses I’d shared until I’d moved here. Jane had been better than I was making her out in my head, but only marginally. I knew I’d miss her, despite my initial reaction, but more than anything I was glad that now I could experience these things with someone else. Jane and I had a great time when we were first together and I can’t remember when it started to fade. I didn’t see it happening: before I knew it, it was arguments and moods, silences and smashed plates. Yes, Jane was fun and we’d had good times. But now… now I was off again, and Lena’s endless energy had already proved a good anchor for at least a firm friendship.

I allowed myself a little skip in the corridor but again, it proved painful. Yet, I thought, why bother being energetic when there’s a gorgeous Australian in my bed, waiting to go back Down Under? I congratulated myself on my wit, and slid back beneath the covers.

Lena rolled over and planted a kiss on the side of my neck before hugging me fiercely and resting her head on my shoulder. “This is the kind of foreign hospitality I’ve been looking for.”

“So have you tested many of us foreigners out?” I asked.

“Just the one. She wasn’t bad but kind of easy.”

I raised an eyebrow and shook my head “Well, I guess you just haven’t grasped the effect you have on English women, darling.” I grinned at her and again leant in to kiss her, thinking as her arms wove their way around me that if she only knew the effect she’d had on me the second I saw her in the record shop. She was beautiful. I couldn’t imagine any woman, gay or otherwise, not instantly making it their goal to bed her. Too much thinking, however, is not good, and so I contented myself with the fact that she was already in my bed.

Lena remained in my bed for most of the day. We made a real mess; the sheets were almost off, the duvet was on the floor, the pillows were scattered around aimlessly. Eventually we slumped into each other and lay side-by-side, nose-to-nose.

“Heyyyy…” She ran her hand into my hair and tickled the back of my neck. I was surprised it didn’t get stuck. “This was really nice, you know. I wish I didn’t have to get home. Do you want me to bring you anything before I go?”

“No, Lena, don’t go yet…” I whinged. “…don’t you want to go get some chips or something? Or a pizza? It’s still really early, we can hang out.”

She smiled and kissed the tip of my nose. “Gotta run.” She hopped up and stretched her arms, breathing out a long yawn. I poured the sight of her body into my brain. Her beautiful tanned skin (along with tan-lines… sexy) and the tattoos… I didn’t want to forget how she looked. I watched her as she dug around for her clothes and when she found them, she chucked her vest over at me. Instead she threw one of my old shirts over her head. “Trade. Your shirt’s cleaner than that.” She smirked and put on the rest of her clothes. She hopped onto the bed next to me and raised an eyebrow, something she did, I realised, a lot. And it looked very, very sexy. She kissed me again, and I wondered… did she always kiss people this way just after she’d fucked them?

---

I spent about an hour laying around in bed, wondering exactly how I’d managed it. I could still smell her all over my bed. I didn’t want to get up but I knew I had to. Eventually I hauled my backside off the mattress and grudgingly headed for the shower- I had things to do and I needed to look presentable. It was a shame that I had to wash the remnants of Lena from my skin at the same time.

Miles knew instantly. All I did was walk into his sitting room, and there he was, both eyebrows raised and a feint smile across his face.

“So. Good?” he asked.

I screwed my eyes up as if deep in thought and flopped down on the chair opposite the sofa on which he was sprawled. “I’d have to say… definitely.” I said, and nodded my head decisively.

He nodded in return and pursed his lips, pretending he needed time to digest the words. His response was to call me a filthy dyke and throw a cushion at me.

“I could still kill you for telling her I thought she was hot.”

“I was just being friendly! No harm intended and no harm done. Forgiven?”

I folded my arms over my chest. “No.” I hopped onto the sofa beside him. “Yes.”

Miles skinned up a joint and I ran through the gory details of the night before. It was a tradition that went way back to even before I came out. I think he was quite glad that he no longer had to listen to stories involving penises. I was more than glad that I no longer had to tell them, not that there had ever been more than one or two. I had come out at the ripe old age of fifteen (to Miles, anyhow) and I tried to keep the memories of any sexual exploits before that time as close to the back of my mind as possible.

“So how did you leave it?” he asked once I’d finished telling my tale.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “She stole one of my shirts and left. I have her phone number. I should think we’ll see each other again, we had a fucking great time.”

“Or a great fucking time?” Miles grinned.

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