Vicki & Lara (2 page)

Lara’s voice
shook with laughter. ‘Are you okay?’

I closed my
eyes beneath the sheet, glad of something to hide behind. ‘I’m
fine.’

‘I bet you
drank more than I did.’

The sheet
tickled as it left my face. Lara had crawled up to the edge of the
bed and she held it bunched up in front of her, pressed between her
spread knees as she knelt to stare at me. Her expression held a
mixture of amusement and concern. And one last thing that I
couldn’t place; whatever it was, it made me uncomfortable.

I looked away
from her face, but that was worse.

I saw the
gleaming nimbus of moonshine around her body. Light playing over
the curves of her hips and thighs in a way that made my fingers
jealous. An angel, beautiful and desirable, naked breasts a mere
inch from my upturned face.

Clambering to
my feet felt harder than it should have been, and I fussed with the
hem of my nightshirt.

‘Are you really
going to leave your bra on?’

I frowned. The
back of my neck tingled, and I told myself that it was wishful
thinking, nothing more, that put a undercurrent of disappointment
in Lara’s whisper.

She sighed and
made space by shuffling back across the bed. While she stretched
out on the far side, shaking the sheet over her body once again, I
took my old place on the edge; with that six-inch chasm between
us.

This time, she
didn’t turn to look at me.

I pulled the
sheet over my body and tried to think of something to say.

Silence
stretched between us like a piece of elastic, growing thinner all
the while.

Lara faced the
ceiling and closed her eyes. Soon, her breathing evened out and the
gentle rise and fall of her chest told me she had fallen
asleep.

Turning onto my
side, I propped my head in my hand.

I let my gaze
travel up and down her body, drinking in the sight with a greed
that frightened and excited me.

Sleep brought
to Lara a peace and beauty for which her waking features had no
space. Not that she was any less beautiful while awake, only that
her bright smile and open-mouthed laughter often left no room to
appreciate the delicate curve of her cheekbones. The full pout of
her lips. The thick sweep of her eyelashes. The arch of her
eyebrows showing off her natural colour which hid beneath all the
red.

A curl of her
hair lay like a crimson shadow across her cheek. I brushed it
away.

In the still of
the bedroom, I could hear my heart hammering against my ribs. It
seemed impossible for the thunderous crashes not to disturb Lara’s
sleep. The torrent of blood pumping through my veins filled my ears
until it masked even the sound of my breathing.

I sat up and
pulled the sheet. Gently, then faster, exposing Lara’s body with
the same reverence as a sculptor showing off his final, finest
work.

Lara’s bare
body resembled a piece of fine art. Smooth and perfect, dappled
with an ethereal glow sliced by shadows.

My hand hovered
above her stomach, a finger’s breadth from touching. The tiniest
motion from either of us would bring my skin into contact with
hers.

The thought
made me grind my legs together.

‘Lara?’

No answer.

A combination
of drink and darkness made me bold.

I touched her
stomach. Felt the gentle rise beneath my fingers as she inhaled.
Her skin, as I’d imagined, was petal-soft beneath my trembling
digits.

The lack of
colour in her skin against mine startled me. So very pale. Or was I
overly dark? I couldn’t tell, but I knew that touch alone couldn’t
and wouldn’t satisfy my growing need. I wanted more.

I trailed my
fingers towards her ribs; allowed my palm to brush the underside of
her breasts.

She sighed.

Looking at her
face again, I saw the little line of moisture between her lips
stretch and break as they parted. A tiny piece of her tongue,
pale-pink and wet, showed through the gap.

Common sense,
what little I had, fled. It left a hole in my mind, quickly filled
by a rush of lust that raged and roiled inside.

I kissed her
lips.

A gust of warm
air flew from her nostrils and tickled my face.

‘Fuck me,’ I
whispered.

‘If you
like.’

I reeled back,
yelping like a puppy with its tail stuck in the door.

Lara didn’t
move, but stared at me through half-lidded eyes. Her mouth
twitched.

‘You were
asleep!’

‘Was I?’

I scrambled off
the bed, still clumsy, but more graceful than my last descent. The
sheets tangled in my legs, pinning me in place. Forced to kick them
away, I lost precious seconds of my escape. By the time I’d freed
myself, Lara had sat up and turned to stare at me.

She didn’t
bother to cover herself.

‘I’m so sorry.’
The words tumbled out. ‘I didn’t mean to. I mean, I shouldn’t have.
I had no right. You were sleeping, I just—’

‘Just what,
Vic? Thought you’d feel me up?’ She arched an eyebrow at me, that
curious expression back in her eyes again.

At last I
managed to identify the look. A challenge.

‘It wasn’t like
that!’

‘Then what was
it like?’

‘I don’t know.
God, I’m sorry. I’ll go.’

‘Where?’ An
edge of weariness crept into her tone. ‘This is your room. Anyway,
the house is crammed – that’s why I’m here.’

‘You’re here
because you’re drunk.’

‘Other nights
I’ve slept on the sofa, but today you said sleep in here. Why would
you do that, Vic? Tell me.’

I opened my
mouth, but no words came out. Instead, my fingers twisted once more
into the hem of my nightshirt. I heard the cotton tear and yanked
my hands away. With nowhere left to put them, I crossed my arms and
hid them in my armpits.

She stared at
me. ‘Vicki, say something.’

I caught her
eye, then looked at the floor. ‘Like what?’

‘You invite me
in here, but won’t touch me. You watch me strip, but run off before
I can finish. You come back and put on a nightshirt. A fucking
nightshirt! Then you refuse to even take your bra off.’

‘I’m
sorry.’

‘Don’t be
sorry, Vic, tell me what you want. Or for once, do something.’

‘Like
what?’

‘Anything!’ She
slapped the bed sheets with her palm.

This time, when
my mouth opened, I managed a small squeak. Something clamped down
on my words and stopped them from escaping and, as I looked at
Lara, I knew I couldn’t do it. I turned and walked to the door.

A loud thud
told me Lara had jumped off the bed. She reached the door before I
did and slammed her hand flat against it. I tugged the handle, but
couldn’t open it more than an inch.

‘Stop running
away!’

I tried the
door again, and this time Lara stepped right into my back. She
pressed into me, her body forming a hot contour of joined skin
against my spine. Her fingers closed over mine and yanked them away
from the handle.

‘Let go,
Lara.’

‘Talk to
me.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You can. It’s
me. You can say anything to me.’

When I jerked
my hand out of hers and returned it to the handle, Lara growled.
She jerked forward and shoved me against the door. Though her head
only reached my shoulder, her strength in that moment was utterly
foreign and made my heart jump in my chest. No way to tell how much
of that was fear and how much was excitement.

She pushed both
hands under the bottom of my nightshirt and caressed my hips in one
long bold stroke.

My knees
quivered, then hit the door. Her fingers left a line of fire on my
body that stopped where her hands did, just beneath the wire of my
stupid, stupid bra.

I pushed back.
Turned to face her. Lowered my head and crushed my lips against
hers in a deep kiss made of longing and frustration.

I had no idea
who was more surprised.

When I pulled
back, her eyes were wide and bright. Her hands hovered in the air,
a short way from my face as though she meant to touch me.

The bears on my
nightshirt leapt up and down and only then did I realise that the
strained panting I could hear came from me. I licked my lips and
pulled a slow breath through my nostrils.

‘Sorry.’

‘If you
apologise one more time, I’m leaving.’

‘Sor— Okay.’ I
closed my eyes for a second, squeezing the lids together so tightly
that white and purple rings danced through the blackness. When I
opened them again, Lara was still there, staring up at me with an
expression of mingled exasperation and amusement.

‘Feel
better?’

‘A little.’

She kissed me,
far softer than I had done her, but longer, and somehow more
verbose than anything else she’d said that night. ‘Was that so
bad?’ Her hand cupped my face while her thumb stroked my cheek.
‘Please talk to me.’

My eyes
scrunched closed, as if to shut her out would make speaking easier.
‘I’m scared.’

The room became
still. Only the light brush of her skin against my face let me know
she was still there.

‘Why?’

‘I’m not your
type.’

‘What are you
talking about?’

I opened my
eyes a crack. Through the gap, I could see Lara staring at me;
beautiful lips slightly parted, eyes wide. Looking away was
definitely easier. So I did. ‘I’m nothing like other girls you’ve
dated. And I didn’t think you’d be interested because of
Malcolm.’

Lara’s hand
slid over my jaw. Though I tried to resist, she forcibly turned my
face towards hers. Gentle kisses touched my forehead, nose and
chin. Then my lips.

‘I’m naked,
Vic. I’ve been trying to get your clothes off since you came in.
You’re the one resisting. Not me.’

I hadn’t
realised I was crying until she brushed the tears away.

‘Come
here.’

I leaned
against her, the heat of her body a long line of comfort and
security against my face and chest. My arms curled around her,
meeting between her shoulder blades. Eager hands stroked my ribs
then clutched me close, fingers kneading me through my
nightshirt.

When she kissed
me, it felt better than I ever could have imagined. I compared
those first kisses to something good, but weak, like a single piano
chord or a recorder. This kiss was a full opus with an entire
orchestra, filled with melody and rhythm and stories of a desire so
strong I felt them brush my skin like warm fur.

Her tongue
traced a delicate pattern around the inside of my mouth; probing,
teasing, exploratory, but gentle. She tasted so good, even through
the stale flavour of wine and curry that lingered on her lips. Most
of all, Lara tasted of herself, and that was a flavour I’d remember
and savour for years to come.

One of her
small long-fingered hands slipped beneath the hem of my nightshirt.
The tips of her fingers touched my thigh and pulled a shudder out
of me that rippled all the way down my spine. ‘What are you
doing?’

‘Vicki,
please.’ Her voice trembled with a fevered need I’d never heard
before. ‘I want to touch you.’

A fluttering
sensation, like the sensual beat of butterfly wings, tickled
through my stomach. My nipples tightened. My head swam. All this
and she’d barely touched me at all.

‘Where?’ I
asked.

She gave me a
look. Then she pulled the nightshirt up my thighs and bunched it
above my hips, exposing my knickers. ‘Here.’ Her free hand stroked
my stomach, just above the line of the elastic. ‘Here.’ The line of
my ribs beneath the bra. ‘And will you take this fucking thing
off?’

Her impatience
was so normal that for a moment I forgot what we were doing. I
threw back my head and laughed.

The nightshirt
took seconds to remove. The bra, less.

Standing before
Lara, naked but for my knickers, I realised, for the first time,
how much she wanted me. Her eyes were huge and shiny in the
darkness. Filled with hunger. A sigh rushed from her lips and she
held her hand about an inch from my body, as if afraid to close
that meagre distance and finally touch.

‘What’s
wrong?’

‘I just want to
savour this for a second.’

‘I’m going to
lose my nerve if you don’t hurry up.’

She
giggled.

‘I mean it.
Come here.’ I snatched her hand, cupped it against my breast, then
mirrored the gesture on the other side.

Standing before
Lara, holding her palms against my nipples, I felt my own body
tingle and shiver. A cotton-soft ball of pleasure gathered in my
stomach, stirring round and spinning out thin tendrils of pleasure
to seep through my limbs in wriggling threads of warmth.

My pulse filled
the back of my throat.

Her thumbs
traced a slow path around my nipples, round and round until they
stood out towards her. A sigh fell out of her mouth, followed by a
low groan. She gripped me, a tiny squeeze, then relaxed; a motion
that went through her body from the shoulders down.

Grinning, Lara
sank to her knees. She trailed her hand over my body the whole way
down and, though my breasts felt suddenly cold and exposed, I
couldn’t find the will to complain. Her lips traced a path down my
stomach, licking and kissing every inch of the way; even the
stretch marks around my belly button.

She batted at
my hands when I tried to cover up.

‘Stop it.’

‘Then leave the
stretch marks alone.’

‘But I like the
way they feel.’

‘They’re
ugly.’

‘No part of you
is ugly. Trust me.’

The argument
died on my lips when Lara hooked her fingers into the sides of my
damp knickers and eased them down. She watched my face the whole
time, the tip of her tongue peeping out the corner of her mouth as
she slipped the elastic over the generous curve of my hips and
thighs.