Roses for Erin

“Are you nibbly at all?” Hannah asked me. “We've probably got a bit to go before the actual music starts and they all start dancing. We should be well-provisioned before we cast off.”

“Is tonight going to be nautical sayings, then?”

“Absolutely,” she said, grinning. “I've got to stay in character, after all. So... hungry?”

“I could eat,” I admitted.

“Come on then. Lets go raiding.”

We wound our way through the press, liberating some plates and a good cargo of various tasties. Hannah guided us to a bench in a corner and we lurked there, watching our betters from an intimate little space that I enjoyed sharing with her far, far more than I should have.

I could feel her arm and hip against me; she'd lean in against me every so often as she reached around me to our plate. I could smell her too - a faint whiff of floral kisses shimmering like mist just over her own more natural scent. I found myself smiling a lot more than I usually did - something about our costumes, about her proximity... her warmth... undid some last little bit of my shyness and restraint.

Soon we were giggling like schoolgirls, creating back-stories for all the various characters we saw - the Duchess, an older woman with a hatchet face who had a young man stapled to her arm; or the General, a portly and jovial man in a gold-laced jacket and matching ostrich-feather hat. We cackled together at the “Cabin boy” - a tall, rather good-looking man in extra-tight tights who was obviously there with the thin, ill-at-ease older man who hovered next to him, plucking at his arm for attention.

But I'd sneak frequent glances at my friend; so bright, so brazen, so lovely in her bandanna and coat and black linen “breeches”.

She blew every other person here out of the water.

She'd left the buttons of her coat open and her blouse was likewise partly undone; underneath I'd catch glimpses of her plain white bra, particularly when she leaned forward to reach for something and her collar would gape open for a moment.

The perfect curve of her wonderful breasts was becoming very hard to ignore.

Something about all of it felt intensely voyeuristic, but I couldn't stop looking at her.

I couldn't stop lapping her up.

She was an incredibly attractive woman.

She had this... lightness... to her that buoyed me.

I loved the heat of her thigh against mine...

And suddenly I caught myself wondering what it would be like to kiss her.

I realised in a single crashing instant what it meant.

I was... attracted to her.

Intensely.

“Shit,” I breathed.

“Erin? What is it...”

I stood; she squawked as I bumped her arm.

“I need more alcohol,” I stammered. “I'm bringing you some too.”

Before she could answer I'd scampered off, face flaming. I snatched a tumbler of amber something from a tray and drained it, gagging as it traced a line of scalding fire down my throat. I grimaced an apology to the awestruck man who'd been carrying the tray.

I did a lap of the buffet, waiting for my flush to cool and my ears to stop burning quite so much.

Then I collared two more glasses of Champagne and tottered my way back to my... whatever she was, now.

She was watching me, eyebrow raised in a worried arch.

“Erin? Babe, are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” I managed. I plopped back down beside her and passed her glass to her. “I was just getting stuck in my thoughts and realised I was thirsty.”

“I... saw...” she said, slowly, with an askance glance my way.

I pretended not to notice.

The music slowly rose in volume to a brief crescendo, then faded away. A bearded man in a purple waistcoat and white breeches tinged a fork against a glass, waited for an approximation of silence, and then began some droning speech about the qualities of some other man - apparently the birthday boy.

I quickly grew bored.

I let my head drop against my partner's shoulder. I felt the way she shivered and took slow breath before sighing it out.

God, she smelled good.

“I hope the music starts soon,” I said. “I want to dance.”

“It will,” she answered. I felt her hand brush over my knee then come to rest just above it. I closed my eyes, content in the moment, listening to the rise and fall of the speaker's dull and pompous voice, thoroughly enjoying the weight of her hand on my thigh.

And the guttering ashes that had been fanned to sudden bright life deep within me.

The speaker came eventually to his laboured and ponderous conclusion.

Laughter, some polite applause, the sound of people moving and a growing wave of conversations...

And then contemporary music swelled.

I opened my eyes, saw groups making for a cleared area near the far side of the large ballroom.

The lights slowly dimmed.

“Tempus est,” I said, aping yet another of my Gran's dimly-remembered sayings. “Come on then,” I added.

Hannah shifted. “Okay, okay. Slave driver. Let me up.”

I lifted my head off her shoulder; she stood and turned.

Then she bowed and offered me her hand with a flamboyant flourish.

I placed my hand in hers; she pulled me to my feet and towed me off into the throng.

.:.

Time drifted past us.

Song after song rose and died away.

It was ridiculously romantic under the soft warm glow of the ballroom's massive central chandelier.

Hannah's eyes were dark as evening; unreadable in the soft semi-shadow.

We'd started off dancing side by side with others.

And that had been fun.

We'd laughed and chatted away over the ebb and flow of the music.

I'd caught her watching me more than once.

Far more than once.

It had been... nice. The expression, the way she'd flush and glance away.

Especially the times I caught her snatching peeks at my poor excuse for a cleavage.

She had touched me often - her hands brushing my arm whenever she'd leaned in to ask me something or comment about something else or simply just laugh at some stupid thing I'd said or done.

Each touch had further ensnared me - strands of gossamer, each tying me ever more tightly to her.

The music slowed as the evening aged.

And it was a ridiculous assumption that I'd stop dancing with her just because of that.

I was having too much fun to want to stop.

I never wanted to stop.

Never, ever, ever.

So I'd turned towards her.

And she'd stood, immobile and almost... frozen... as I'd slipped in closer and gently clasped my arms behind her neck.

“Dance with me, Hannah,” I'd whispered into her ear.

And she'd made a soft little sound before she'd taken me in her arms and begun to do just that.

And now I slow-danced with her.

Staring slightly upwards at her, my head angled just a bit to one side, the feather of my tricorne nodding gently in rhythm with us.

Watching her.

I could feel every breath she took as if it were my own.

I could feel the warmth of her against me through the thin fabric of her shirt and my dress.

She danced well.

She was a comfortable height for me.

I liked being in her arms.

People were watching her jealously, sneaking looks at her lovely bum when they could.

But she was mine.

I was buzzing - flirting merrily with the precipice edge of way-too-tipsy - giddy and happy and my heart as full of joy as I could ever remember it being.

I liked the way her hand had shifted slowly from my shoulder blade down to the small of my back. I approved of how she'd slowly crept closer until her leg occasionally brushed mine.

I loved being held the way she was holding me.

She'd stopped smiling long ago; now she just wore this strange, intense little frown that I couldn't quite describe.

And a tight, roiling knot of need had built to a near-pain in my belly.

Long-buried memories were tormenting me - of the sensation of that moment in prehistory when I'd kissed the... other girl.

How she'd felt. How she'd smelled.

How she'd... tasted.

The way she'd... touched me.

So very much like the way in which Hannah was touching me now - gently, carefully, and with such clear and obvious consideration.

As if I were... precious.

I stared upwards at her perfect face.

I wished with all my heart that Time would slow for us.

I never wanted to stop dancing with this girl.

But eventually the music changed again, back to something upbeat and party-like.

We slowed to a stop; I pulled myself in against her and tucked my face in under her chin. I let out a little regretful sigh, and felt the answering sigh she gave.

“Want another drink?” I murmured into her ear.

“Yes,” she answered me. “I need to... cool down.”

I smiled, and kissed her cheek before I released my hold on her.

She struggled to meet my gaze before she turned and pulled me after her.

She was flushed, and I felt her fingers fumble and fiddle with mine.

Nerves, came the strange intuition - she was nervous!

She was by far the coolest, most beautiful woman here.

And... and she was here with me.

By choice.

And... and she was nervous.

Because of me!

I felt a constricting pressure seize my heart.

I stared at Hannah's back, at the waterfall of shadow-black hair that tumbled out under her bandanna, at the lovely shape of her shoulders.

At the exquisite line of her neck.

I wondered if she... maybe... wanted me.

I knew I wasn't gay in the strict definition of the word.

But...

I ... seemed to like women too. Sometimes.

More than sometimes, I supposed.

I was pretty certain that I really liked this woman.

More than liked, really.

Perhaps even...

Adored, a fearful part of me finally admitted.

And... and maybe she could...

Want me, whispered the desperate, lonely little voice deep within.

I leaned against a wall, watching her as she fetched some more Champagne. She returned, easing gently into my space, slipping my glass carefully into my hand. I stared up at her, watched the way she licked her lips as I took a sip, the way she swallowed as I smiled...

“This is nice,” I told her. “I... like being here. I like being here like this. With you.”

She glanced down, then managed a shy, uncertain smile of her own. “I'm... glad to hear that. I'd... be sad if you weren't enjoying it.”

“Oh there's no danger of that. I'm enjoying... all of it.”

“All... of it?” she said, briefly managing to meet my gaze.

“All of it.”

“Oh.”

She flushed a shade or two deeper.

I put my glass aside, eased in closer, leaned in against her.

She let out a low, throaty moan as I gently nuzzled the perfect line of her jaw.

“Erin...” she whined.

“Uh huh...”

“What are you... doing...”

“Exploring.”

“Exploring... uhn... what...”

“You.”

“Stop... teasing. I know you aren't...”

“You've been staring at my boobs all night. I... enjoy it. It intrigues me. It makes me... curious.”

“Yeah... but I at least... oh God... have an excuse. Erin... Erin, please, please babe, you're killing me, stop that...”

She shuddered; I slowly released her earlobe from between my teeth; it had felt so, so satisfying to gently nibble it and feel the way it made her squirm against me.

“Do you really want me to stop?” I breathed.

“You'd... better...”

I trailed my finger slowly down over her warm, perfect lips.

She closed her eyes, let out another breathy little moan.

“Or... what?” I said, intrigued.

“Or I'm going to jump you right here,” she gasped. “Please, you have to stop.”

“But I don't want to...”

“I'm not a toy, Erin. I'm... not something for you to... to play with because you're curious.”

That stung a bit.

I pulled back.

“I know you're not. I don't want you to be. I know what that's like.”

“Then... why are you doing this to me? Why are you tormenting me like this?” she demanded.

I could hear her bewilderment clear as day.

I sighed, tucked my face into her neck again.

She held herself rigid at first, relaxing again only when I made no move to assault her any further.

“Well?” she demanded, almost fiercely.

“I like it here,” I quietly confessed. “Against you. Like this. I like having your arms around me like this. It... it feels good. It feels... safe. Like I belong here. Like I... matter.”

“You do matter,” she whispered.

She pulled me in more tightly against her.

I closed my eyes.

“Erin...”

“Don't you want me, Hannah?” I breathed. “You can have me if you like.”

She shuddered. “Of... of course I want you. God, I'd... I'd walk over broken glass for you. But...”

“But... what.”

“I...”

“You won't chase me away. You won't lose me. I'm... very good at staying where I'm wanted. I'd stay. With you, I mean. If you... wanted me.”

She pressed herself in closer against me but didn't answer. I could feel her pulse thumping against my cheek.

“Hannah? I'm going to count to three,” I said, softly. “If your arms are still around me when I reach three then I intend to misbehave. One. Two...”

And then she stopped my count in its tracks by kissing me.

I moaned, melting against her as she clasped me to her.

Her lips tasted of salt and peach lip gloss and the faint aftertaste of Champagne.

Electricity lashed up and down my spine.

No kiss I'd ever had before came even close.

I broke away for air, panting softly. Her body was warm against me; sparks tingled on my lips from her touch.

Her fingers curled into my back as she grappled me closer.

Her own breath rasped in my ear.

She made a little sound and buried her face in my neck.

I felt her convulse hard, once.

And something warm and wet dropped onto the scalding skin of my neck.

Tears.

Oh no.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed as I suddenly realised what I'd just done to her.

And then I began to panic as she started to cry.

.:.

“Are you okay?” I whispered. “Hannah?”

We huddled in a corner of a small storage room, hidden behind all the cases of unopened bottles and away from prying eyes; muffled music was muted by several intervening walls.

She'd stopped sobbing now, thank God. She'd broken down and I'd had to grab her and shield her and get her out of there as quick as I could; one of her friends had seen the carnage and had quickly and competently steered us here before leaving us and closing the door to screen us from the world.

And now we sat, pressed up together on yet another small bench, my arm clamped tightly around her shoulders as I held her against me.

“Sorry,” she hiccoughed, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Don't. It's not your fault. I should be strung up for doing that...”

She burrowed in more tightly against me.

“Hey,” I breathed. “Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong...”

“You... you are...” she gulped.

“What?” I said, going cold. “What do you mean?”

“You're... so nice. So kind, so... so pretty. Everything I want. And... and it breaks my heart every day because... because I want you so much and I can't... I can't have you.”

“But...”

“I can't fall any further for you,” she whispered. “I can't be with you. I know I'll lose you. I... can't...”

“Oh.”

I pondered that for a moment.

“But... why would you?”

“Because you'll find a man you want and... leave me.”

“Oh Hannah. Oh, no. Never. Listen. Listen, please. I'll freely admit that I... I enjoyed being fucked by... that man. But... I've only ever been with him and one other. And... and I've been with a woman, too, right?”

“Only briefly,” she whispered. “And... not in good circumstances.”

“I... still really liked it. I really did...”

“That's not enough for me,” she wailed.

“Oh.”

I took a painful breath.

“So... does how I feel factor into this? At all? Or... or is that it? Don't I even get a chance?”

She made a non-committal noise and tightened her grip further.

“I don't know,” she mumbled into my neck, after a long and horrid silence. “You shouldn't. I should do the hard thing for... for us...”

“Can I at least... tell you how I feel?”

Silence.

“I'm... I'm pretty convinced that I like girls too. As in... to be with. I've been thinking a lot about it today. More than today but... a lot today. Especially tonight. I... liked the time I was with... that girl. Despite the situation and the... aftermath. She was the one good thing about all of it. I... liked her. A lot. Enough to let her inside me despite all my ideas about who I was. And... I want to be that close to you. I like you more than I liked her, Hannah. A lot more. ”

She sniffed again but stayed silent.

“Hannah? Talk to me. I need you to...”

“I love you,” she moaned suddenly, soft and hopeless.

My heart jolted.

“Sorry,” I said, instinctively.

I bit my tongue hard and cringed at my stupidity.

She didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps she just didn't have the strength to care.

“I had such a massive crush on you, Erin. From about the time I first saw you in that shop. God, you... you took my breath entirely away. And.. and everything since has been blow after blow. Making me fall further. Harder. Everything you are, everything you do. The way you hold me, smile at me... the way you're... always there for me when I need you. I... I love you. And.... and it's broken me. You've broken me. Nothing's okay any more. Nothing will ever be okay any more.”

“Hannah....”

“I know myself well enough to know that this is real. That... that I'm absolutely besotted with you and there's... I can't stay away. I can't be strong around you. If... if I give myself to you then it's over for me. When you leave me there'll be nothing left. Might as well just take a knife and stab me in the heart because it will save...”

“Stop talking like that,” I snapped. I clutched her arms and shook her gently. “Stop it. I... listen. I can't predict what the future will bring. Maybe you're right. Maybe we won't last. Nothing's certain. But... you know something? Since I met you, I've been happy. Actually happy. I've... felt content, complete - like everything was finally starting to make sense. I... life is hard, Hannah. It's horrible at times. We both know that. It stabs and slashes at us in a million brutal little ways. I can't tell you that... that either of us won't wake up one day and want someone else. It happens. But... I'm happy in your arms. I'm so happy when you watch me. I'm really, really happy when you touch me like you were tonight. When I know that, of all the far more beautiful people here...”

“There aren't any beautiful people here but you,” she whispered. She moved, raising her legs and sliding them up over my thighs so she could hook them over mine; so she was turned more in towards me, partly on my lap. She tucked her face into my neck. “There's only you,” she added, muffled against me. “You're all I see any more. You're... everything. There's nobody else. Won't ever be either. Never, ever,” she finished in a whisper.

“You're still the only person to ever tell me that,” I breathed, when I was finally able to. “You will always, no matter what, be the first person who ever told me that. Hopefully... with a bit of luck, you won't get tired of me, and you'll always be the only one.”

“I'll never get tired of you,” she hiccoughed. I felt her shift; she scrubbed at her eyes. “Sorry,” she added. “I'm not... strong. Not any more. Never was, really...”

“Stop. Never say sorry for this. You don't need to be strong around me. Not for me.”

“Okay,” she whispered. She slumped in against me.

I held her against me, listening to her breathing.

It felt like we'd passed our crisis. She seemed... calmer, somehow.

Or was it resignation I was feeling from her?

I hoped for the former.

“Hannah?” I prodded, gently.

“Mm.”

“Shall we... go back in there?”

“No. No. I'm done. You can go if you like. I can't... be around people any more. Not today. Go. Go have fun.”

“No. I'd much rather stay with you.”

“Promise?” she whispered, after some time.