Sandcastles

"How many guys have you been with?"

"That's a direct question."

"I'm a direct girl."

I pulled my tee shirt down over my breasts and then paused as I ran the numbers.

"Six," I answered.

"And you had the same reaction to each of them... afterwards?"

"Yeah. Some more than others, but... yeah. Mostly the same."

"Ever been with a girl?"

"No," I said softly. "No, I haven't."

"Ever thought about it?"

She put a full wineglass down for me, and turned away while she filled her own.

"Sometimes," I admitted. "Mainly... well, mainly while watching girls... um... playing with themselves in porn. I did wonder... sometimes. What it was like."

"So you watch porn?"

"Sometimes," I admitted. "Actually, I suppose I should be honest and say yes, often. Um... do you?"

"I tried once or twice, but it didn't do it for me. Not engaging enough. Books work, depending on the book. But I generally need an actual breathing presence by me. Against me."

She gave me a glance over her shoulder, then turned to face me. She sipped her wine.

"Ask me whatever it is that you're chewing over," she said. "You're mulling. I know you are. Spill it."

"I'm just... interested, I guess. Interested in talking to you about... stuff. I've never really had anyone I could talk to about these things. Mum was hopeless, and... well, I never had anyone else close enough to... confess to. About my..."

"Your..." she said, waiting.

"Issues," I sighed.

"I will always be here to listen to you," she said softly. "You can depend on that, Ari. So... what do you want to ask me?"

"What's it... like. Being with a woman? As opposed to a man, I mean."

She thought for a moment, then made a face. "It's... kind of the same for me, really? I mean, there's... look, there's always a bit of the harlot in me that wants a rock hard cock sunk in me, right, but... fingers can be magical too. And tongues. And girls know how girls work. Older guys do too, but young guys are... well, the ones I've been with have wanted to see my tits and maybe play with my pussy for a few seconds, and then when they discover how wet I mostly am, well.... after that, all they're interested in is how quickly they can get into me. They're sweet and intense but... I find that when it comes to my needs and desires, well, experience counts in these matters."

"You are very beautiful," I said. "I'm not surprised they're so desperate to be in you."

She sighed.

"Meh. I want... I want slow, sometimes. Actually, more than sometimes. I want to be melted. To lose myself in what they're doing for me. The second time I was with a girl, she spent an hour just getting to know my body. My soul orgasmed," she said, with a wry grin.

"That sounds nice. To be... treated like that."

"It is. It's rare, but it's out there. Maybe that's what you're missing, Ari. Maybe you just need a guy who will be that patient - a craftsman rather than a demolition expert," she grinned.

I flushed.

"I just wish I knew what was wrong with me," I said.

"Hey. There's nothing wrong with you, sweetie. You're not broken. Far, far from it. You just need to find what works for you and find the man who will learn. I reckon you will. You're too in touch with yourself for it to be any other way, Ari. You've just got different wiring and instructions to other people."

I sighed; she put down her wineglass and came to me.

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me. "Don't be sad," she said. "At least you know you'll always be loved."

I flushed pink at the tone in her voice, and made a small stupid sound as she pulled herself closer.

"Shit. Sorry," she whispered as she started to release me. "Sorry, Ari. I didn't mean to..."

"Don't let go!" I cried out as I clutched her to me and buried my face in her hair. "Don't let me go just yet. Please. Don't let me go."

So she held me, and I lost myself for a moment in the sensation of her warm body against me.

"Come," she said, after a silence. "Lets make supper and go sit outside. It's my last evening with you and I don't want to spend it indoors. And now I seriously need the fresh air."

She gave me a long, thoughtful look before she turned away, and I watched her as she bent to rummage in the fridge.

And I tried to ignore the immensely inconvenient fact that I had felt warm in her arms. And safe. And...

"Come help me, Ari. I'm not your bondswoman yet. You owe me a couple more dinners first."

So I sighed and went to help, and tried to ignore the strange pang in my heart.

.:.

Sunlight woke me; I opened my eyes slowly, hoping that I'd dodged the worst of any hangover.

Her arm was still curled possessively over me; she snored almost inaudibly against my shoulder.

I lay, enjoying the way her breath curled over my skin and raised goosebumps in its wake.

It looked to be well after dawn.

We'd stayed up late into the night, staring out over the sea as the stars arched above us. She'd talked quietly about her various relationships - the highs, the lows, the heartbreak and disasters that had somehow inevitably dogged her - punctuating each with gentle pressure from the hand in which she'd so familiarly held mine.

I felt no embarrassment around her - there was never even a hint of judgement. She answered anything I asked her - often visibly pausing to think about how best to put it for me.

It was wonderful to have someone to talk to - someone who listened, someone who sympathised with me. Someone wise.

And it had felt so natural to talk to her - to tell her everything...

I lay still, trying to work my way through the complex web of emotions.

Then I sighed.

When was anything in my head ever simple?

Charley stirred, grumbled something about squirrels, and rolled away from me. I sighed again, regretfully this time, almost immediately missing the warm, comforting weight of her arm.

I slipped carefully out of bed and snuck a quick glance at her - mouth open, head arched back in the glorious nest of her cloth-of-gold hair.

She was lovely. My bright, primary colours in this grey world.

I tiptoed to the kitchen and started to brew a French press full of coffee for us. Then I slunk back to the bedroom, slipped onto the bed, and sat there, cross-legged, watching her as she dozed.

The strange, cramping ache under my ribs came back.

I had at most ten hours left with her - and then we would be parted again.

Hopefully only briefly this time - but it was still a bitter pill to have to swallow.

I stared at her, at the line of her jaw, her elegant neck. The faint freckles on her bare shoulder...

And, almost hating myself for doing it, I reached out to gently touch her cheek; swallowing hard at the sudden thudding of my heart...

She stirred, groaned, yawned. I watched her eyes flutter once, twice...

"Ari?" she said softly.

"Yeah. I'm here."

She stretched, yawned again, rolled over towards me. The vest she was wearing did little for her modesty; her perfect right breast was almost entirely exposed through the low-cut neckline. I flushed; looked down and away quickly, feeling like a peeping Tom despite everything.

"Is it morning?" she groaned.

"I'm afraid so. I'm brewing coffee."

"Oh. OK. That sounds better. You been awake long?"

"No, not for very long."

She fumbled for my hand and pulled it closer to her.

Her skin was lovely - warm and soft, smooth...

"What are we doing before I leave?" she yawned.

"Could we... go riding again?"

"The scooter needs to be back by two, so if we were ever going to I guess this morning is the time. Anything particular you want to go see?"

"No," I said softly. "I just... I just want a few hours of nothing but you and the sun and the wind."

She paused, gave me a strange look.

"What?" I said.

"You just sounded way more intense than I expected this early in the morning."

"I'm facing the reality of... well, of you leaving."

"You have my number this time," she said. She moved closer to me. Goosebumps crawled up my sides as she reached out to gently touch my exposed knee. "And you promised you'd come and stalk me. I'm trusting that you'll keep that promise, Ariadne."

"I will. I swear I will. It's just..."

I shrugged, hating how helpless I felt.

"This is my paradise," I whispered, eventually. "This. Being here, just you and me, with not even the slightest part of real life intruding. I'm really going to miss this. Charley. Home is nowhere near as nice as this. Nothing else on Earth is this simple or good. Nothing else makes me happy like this."

"We will do this again."

"Will we?"

She sat up, reached out, and pulled me down into a hug.

"Yeah, we will," she breathed. "I'll make sure of it. I'll make sure we come back here."

I swallowed, then shook my head to clear the cobwebs. "Sorry," I sighed. "I'm just... in a dark mood."

"It's okay. I get it. I'm feeling something similar, I think. Come. Time is short, let's get moving."

We dressed in near silence, and ate a quick, simple breakfast. Lost in my thoughts, I walked beside her down to the silver Piaggio. Charley eased us out onto the road; I clung to her back, feeling the way her muscles moved against me, squeezing my eyes closed as I tried to fix the moment in my mind.

Slowly the wind and noise blew the murk from my thoughts. I started to watch the world around us again - started to at least appreciate the bright blue day and the silver sea under the warm, burnished sun.

We found a small sun-blasted village and its baked little store, and bought water and some snacks. Then Charley began to follow her nose - finding the weird little roads that wound inland towards a low range of hills we'd agreed might have a good vantage point on them. I clung to her, feeling the bike move and sway under us, conscious the way our sweat began to dampen our shirts as the day warmed and the sun climbed further.

We ascended out of the dust and heat into the cooler breeze of the hills, and found a small grove of dusty wild olives with some ancient stones that had been set as seating for those who wanted to admire the view.

There was no sound but the slight rustling of leaves and grasses, and the ever-present buzz of cicadas.

We sat on a squared off block that was barely large enough for both of us; I found myself suddenly and intensely conscious of the warm, firm pressure of her bare leg against mine.

She stared out at the landscape and the distant ocean; she was pensive and quiet.

And I hesitated for quite some time before finally I reached out to place my hand on her knee.

She sighed, then gave me a wan little smile.

"Sorry," she said. "Wool-gathering. Are you okay?"

"I'm... not sure. More no than yes, really."

She leaned in and rested her head against my shoulder; I let mine fall until it touched hers.

"I like how normal this feels," she said softly. "I..."

"You what?" I breathed, after a few moments of silence.

"I just wish you lived closer, is all. It's going to be a long way between us."

"I know," I murmured. "I've been obsessing about that too."

"Mm."

"It's peaceful here, isn't it."

"Yeah, it's... nice."

I felt her shift, and she put her own hand on mine. Her fingers curled in between mine in a strangely comforting way.

I tried to work out what I was feeling, and failed miserably.

Charley shifted beside me, as if she could hear my thoughts.

"I like holding your hand," she confessed. "I know I shouldn't, and I know this is just me taunting myself. But I do like it."

I said nothing, and after a moment she sighed.

"You hungry?" she said after a while.

"A bit."

"What should we open?"

"Just the olives for me. You should have what you feel like."

We sat, listening to the cicadas as they surrounded us with their heat-haze sound. I could taste the dust on my tongue, feel the gentle breeze against the faint sheen of sweat on my skin. Charley shifted her leg against mine, kicking her feet idly as she hummed softly to herself. We shared the various things we'd brought to eat, and as we ate I snuck glances at her, trying to fix the colour of her hair and eyes in my mind, trying to capture this scene for later, when I knew from bitter experience that I would be sunk in bleak, bitter desolation.

"Penny for your thoughts," she said, when she noticed me watching her.

"They're not worth that much," I whispered.

She squeezed my knee. "We need to leave soon. I need to hand the bike back and grab my things. My bus leaves at six."

"I know. I just wish it didn't."

"So do I," she breathed.

.:.

I walked with her to the parking lot, carrying her suitcase for her despite her entreaties that she could manage.

I loaded it for her; carefully placing it into one of the remaining voids within the luggage compartment.

As I straightened, she grabbed my arm and spun me to face her. She pushed in hard against me and clasped her arms tightly behind my back.

We clung to one another for a close, bitter moment before she sighed and slowly, by degrees, disentangled herself.

"Please don't cry," she whispered as she caught sight of my face again. "Please, Ari. You'll set me off and then there'll be no hope for me."

"Can't help it," I gulped, fighting to keep what little control remained to me.

She squinted up at me.

I stared down into those honey-warm eyes.

And then, driven by something I couldn't understand or control, I jerked forward and kissed her.

She bleated in shocked surprise; I broke free and tucked my face in against her.

I could feel her shaking.

"That wasn't fair," she moaned. "That just made this ten million times worse."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, as confusion and despair overflowed within me.

Her phone began to blare an awful klaxon alarm; the bus let out a short blast of its own horn to motivate the few remaining loiterers to board.

"You've got to go."

"You've got my number, and I've got yours - on my phone and scrawled all over my notebook as backup."

She pulled back, glared up at me.

"Phone me this time, you bitch," she rasped, ribs heaving, "or I swear I will hunt you down and end you."

"I'll phone you. I promise."

"Swear it."

"I cross my heart and hope to die," I whispered.

"OK."

She tucked herself in under my chin for a moment.

Then she let me go, stepped back.

One last gentle caress of my cheek, and she turned away from me.

"Be safe," I cried after her as my vision blurred.

She climbed the stairs. The few other departing guests followed her, and the doors sighed closed behind them.

I tracked her as she staggered down the length of the bus until she found a seat by the window nearest me.

She put her hand to the glass, palm open, and as the bus eased into motion I darted up alongside it, my own hand stretched up so my fingers were only one thin pane of glass away from hers.

She mouthed something that I couldn't understand.

But the bus picked up speed as it turned away, and pulled her away from me, and I eventually had to fall back and stagger to a stop - coughing from the dust that caked my throat; bewildered and adrift in the profound sense of loss as I rested my hands on my knees and fought for control.

The clattering rumble of the diesel engine faded into the distance; the quiet conversation of people and all-pervading hiss of the cicadas returned.

And I made my long, lonely way back to the chalet and the solitude it held for me.

Her messages that night were brief. She let me know when she'd boarded, and when she'd landed at Luton. A brief flurry of pings detailed the interminable bus trip back home. But she didn't phone me - probably too upset and exhausted.

And to be honest, I doubted I would have been strong enough to not break down again.

I went to sleep cold and lonely, and woke up miserable to the grey light of not-quite-dawn. I made my way down to the water's edge and sat there, staring out at the gunmetal horizon as the sun slowly flirted with the distant edge of the sky.

Every breath felt hard to take.

I missed her.

I missed her scent, the warmth of her fingers on my skin. I missed the light and joy she lit in me through her mere presence.

I missed the liquid note of her laughter, the way she'd watch me out of the corner of her eyes with the slightest of smiles curving her lips.

And I tried to work out if that was the sum of what I missed... or if some strange, new part of me missed something more.

That line of thought led me down the path of self-doubt and recriminations

I knew I was being stupid, and melodramatic.

But I couldn't help myself; I couldn't break free of the mire.

And ultimately I was left no wiser.

The sun's limb clawed its way upwards and lit the land around me with glory.

I took breath after laboured breath, curling my hands over and over again into the fine, yielding sand beneath me, trying to come to terms with what I was feeling and failing.

Slowly the world came to life around me - other early risers taking advantage of the tranquillity of dawn to run, swim, or simply sit as I was.

I hoped they were happier than I was.

At last I wiped my burning eyes, shook the sand off my hands, and rose to my feet.

Moping would do nothing. At least now I could reach her when I needed her. At least I had that.

I sniffed and turned away from my ocean.

I made my way slowly up the hill to my chalet.

I made myself a small scavenger-hunt breakfast and dug out my phone.

i really miss you I sent to her.

Ditto x came her eventual response, followed by a Don't mope. We'll talk later. At least now we can. Go enjoy yourself in the water. Think of me. x

So I did.

.:.

And all too soon my own time in the islands came to an end. I boarded my own bus, and made my own Odyssey to the airport and from there, back home.

I staggered into my tiny austere flat in the early hours of the morning, crashed and burned on my bed without even undressing, and left for work too late and panicky to even think of contacting her .

It was only that evening that I finally managed to find the time to call her.

She answered the video call on the third ring.

And my heart thudded at the wide, warm smile she gave me.

"Hey gorgeous. I was wondering whether you'd actually get round to calling today. How's Ipswich?"

"Same as ever. Flat. Salty. Bastard seagulls everywhere. Hows Lincoln?"

"Oh, you know... same as ever. You look really nice with your hair down over your shoulder like that."

I flushed.

"Thanks. I... I'm trying something new."

"It suits you. You should keep it."

And then the awkward silence blossomed. I tried to screw up the courage to talk to her.

"So..." she said.

"Uh huh?" I breathed, grateful for the reprieve.

"Ari, I have to ask you something. It's been bugging me."

"What? What is it?"

"What was that shameful display at the bus? Was it just... momentary madness? Or..." she said, dangling the word in the air between us.

I could feel the excruciating progress of the blush that crawled up my throat and over my scalp.

"I... don't know," I confessed.

"Mm. That's not particularly helpful."

"It's... all I've been able to work out so far. Charley... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that to you. It was... unfair to you."

"Yeah, it was. Taking advantage of me like that; you should be ashamed. And it was such a nice kiss, too. Oh well. At least you got even for my misbehaviour in the sea. So. Um... tell me... do you regret it?"

"No," I admitted, after a struggle.

"Really?"

"Yes. I mean... No... I..."

"It's okay, I get it," she said. "It was a... complicated situation. Lots of emotions flying around. Don't worry. I won't hold it against you. Much."

I turned sideways on my chair, tucked my legs in up against me.