Tea Leaves

"Yeah, wild mushrooms are nightmare fuel. My dad goes hunting for sorrel and wild garlic and so on but he's always told me gruesome stories from a very early age about not touching fungi."

"Grandad did the same. I won't even go near them because they freak me out too much. Even the benign ones creep me the fuck out."

"Shop mushrooms only," she agreed. "Berries too."

"Except blackberries?"

"Obviously," she grinned.

She looped her arm through mine.

"Dawn... can I ask you something?" she said.

"Uh... huh..."

"Why are you single? You seem so sad and lonely. What's... um... going on with you?"

"I..."

"Did someone... hurt you? Break your heart?" she added softly. "Or... or did you lose... someone?"

"No... oh, goodness no, nothing like that... it's just..."

I took a few steps, then sighed.

"It's easier, that's all," I murmured. "It's easier not to be open. I'm... too accustomed to being used. To being seen as a... funding source. I'm tired of the tears and heartbreak and disillusionment that comes with it."

"Mm. So... there's really no man in your life, then? Not even part-time?"

"Um... no..." I whispered, flushing.

"That's a shame. Lots of my guy friends would love a chance to get to know someone like you."

"Um..."

"Am... am I embarrassing you?"

"A little," I whispered.

"But it's true. You're really pretty. You should put yourself out there a bit. I'm sure you'd be surprised. Want me to set you up?" she said with a grin. "I know one or two really sweet boys who are largely single..."

"No. No, I'm all good. Thanks." I said, flushing hot.

"Let me know if you change your mind," she laughed, and she pulled bumped her hip against me once more.

"I... doubt I will..."

Because you're already besotted, my cynical little inner imp reminded me.

And I sighed and kicked a stick out of our way.

"So... how about you?" I said, after a silence.

"Me?"

"Yeah. Are you... with anyone?"

"Oh. No, I'm not. It's... been a while. I've got more important things to focus on than... that."

"Oh."

"It's not all bad, really. I've got my friends, so it's not lonely. It's just... like you said, it's easier, right?"

"I... guess."

"And anyway, if I were ever in the mood, I just need to dial up my charm and I'll have someone."

Her grin gave the lie to her words, and after a moment she snorted at herself.

"Or at least, that's the comforting fib I tell myself at night when I'm cold and lonely," she said, more softly. "Still... I really mustn't complain."

"But..." I said.

"Mm?"

"You're so nice, Chloe. Men must throw themselves at you."

"That's sad for the men," she said, grinning. "Because unfortunately for them I bat for the ladies team...shit!"

It was only her arm and quick reflexes than prevented me from face-planting as I stumbled and fell to my knees.

"Dawn? Are you okay?" she said, concerned. She helped me back up. "Your back..."

"Um. Um, yes. Sorry. Just... clumsy, I guess. I'm fine, thanks..."

But my heart was hammering double-time.

"You look strange. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes. Uh huh. Perfect. Absolutely fine..."

One of her eyebrows arched upwards.

"You have a rubbish poker face," she said. "What... wait a minute..."

She stared at me.

"I startled you," she said. "That's what that was. You weren't expecting... Dawn?"

I fanned my flaming face. "You got me. Sorry. I was just... surprised."

"Surprised that I'm... gay?"

"Yes."

She stared at me and took a slow, measured breath.

"Does it bug you?"

"No, not in the slightest...really, I promise!" I protested as she continued to stare at me, seemingly unconvinced.

"But..." she said, still watching me closely.

"I'm... look, I'm just completely fucking mortified for being so flippant and stupid... It must have been... extremely awkward..."

"Oh. Is that all? Oh my God, no! Don't be silly. It was quite sweet, really. I had half a mind to take you up on it, to be honest. But that wouldn't have been fair..."

She grinned, tugged on my arm and we set off again, all lapses forgiven.

"So... you're...completely unattached?" I said, hesitantly.

"I had a brief... dalliance... not so long ago. But... it wasn't healthy. She was extremely manipulative and got off on jealousy."

"I'm... sorry to hear that."

"I'm not. Sex is lovely, but I've got a full life, and lots of friends. And... and these days I seem to have you too, which definitely fills many of my... remaining needs."

"So I'm not a friend, then?" I said, unsure whether to feel hurt or not.

"No. You're something far more precious," she answered.

"... oh. Really?"

"Yeah. You're my muse and drinking partner!" she said, with a funny, bright little laugh.

"Oh... um... you know the joke's on you, right? I'm a shit muse."

"But you're so a-musing!"

"Oh my God, Chloe! No!"

She cackled and dodged my feeble attempt to smack her arm. Then she yelped as I changed targets and managed to spank her bum.

"You tart!" she laughed as she rubbed herself. "Right. Gloves are off, miss!"

"Oh... shit, be gentle with me, be gentle with me!" I shrieked, laughing as I desperately tried to fend her off.

But she grappled me, and got her leg behind mine, and did something with her hip... and before I could even squeak I was on the ground and she was on top of me...

And then I screamed and squealed and laughed and thrashed helplessly as she pinned me down and started to tickle me.

Soon enough I surrendered. I slumped back, crying with laughter, gasping frantically for breath, covered in leaves and twigs and bits of forest debris...

"Stop, stop, stop," I begged her. "Stop stop oh my God just fucking stop..."

She took pity on me.

I panted, shuddered, laughed, caught my breath... and opened my eyes.

She was staring down at me, spread-eagled partly over me, supporting herself on her arms as she watched me with a strange little frown...

She was flushed, breathing hard, and I could feel each breath she took, could feel the weight of her slender body against my belly...

And I suddenly noticed the wonderful presence of her thigh between mine...

I would barely need to move to be able to kiss her...

"You're beautiful," I breathed.

She blinked, then swallowed. She suddenly seemed to realise the position we were in, and levered herself up and off me.

And I cursed my stupid, uncontrollable tongue for ruining the moment.

I sighed and took the hand she offered me.

She pulled me to my feet and began to gently pat the worst of the debris off my clothes.

"Sorry... you're all twiggy now."

"It... was interesting to be swept off my feet," I teased her. "But I'm definitely going to have to spend some time with a comb tonight."

Her blush intensified, if that were possible.

"I didn't mean for it to get weird. I'm really sorry if it did. God, the last thing I'd want to do is... offend you..."

"It didn't. And you didn't... I'm just... absolutely useless when I'm being attacked like that. It's full-on sensory overload. Frankly I'm surprised I didn't wee on myself..."

"Well... next time I'll choose a grassier patch."

"That might be wise. There's some nice flat embankments near the stream you could fling me down on if you're dead set on having your way with me..."

"Dawn. Honestly. You're terrible," she grinned.

"And you're innocent as the driven snow of course."

"Naturally."

"Mm. So... Chloe, tell me... how much more work do you actually need to do today?"

"As much as I can," she sighed. "But realistically it's a lost cause. Because... what I really want to do, Dawn, is open a bottle of wine and sit under that glorious tree that should by rights be part of your garden and... forget that the world exists for an hour or sixteen."

"That does sound like a good use of our time," I agreed.

"So how about we go back to yours and enjoy what remains of today?"

"There's still a lot of today left, you know..."

"All the more to enjoy, then, isn't there?"

And I couldn't fault her logic.

We took a fork that I knew would bring us out onto the road some tens of yards from my street. She walked beside me, smiling a little smile whose genesis she didn't seem to think worthy of sharing with me.

I enjoyed the way her arm fitted mine, and I loved how our stride matched almost exactly.

.:.

We emerged from the woods and turned for home. I fumbled my front door open and held it ajar for her, flushing as she brushed past me far closer than she really needed to.

I hung her jacket for her. "Choose us some wine, will you?" I called as I followed suit with mine.

We carried our glasses and the bottle outside, and took up station under the chestnut tree.

"Three hours or so until dusk," she said softly. "Lets make the best of it."

And I smiled and sipped the glass of wine she poured for me.

"So, Dawn..."

"Mhmm?"

"How did you end up here?"

"I grew up nearby and always loved the look of our town. So... when the option presented itself..."

"You put down roots."

"Yes. I... I'm content here."

"Not happy though."

"No. Not happy, but that's on me, not on where we are."

"What would make you happy, do you think?"

"Someone to grow old with, I guess. Like.... like Terry had..."

"Terry?"

"The previous owner of my house. He lived here for fifty seven years. Can you imagine that?"

"Sort of. Our family's lived in the same property for something like three hundred years now."

"Wow."

"Yeah. We're definitely classed as local," she laughed.

"Where's home, then?"

"Not far from here, really. About thirty miles give or take. Ever heard of Norbury-on-Hill?"

"Um... to be honest..."

"You've never heard of it, right?" she grinned. "I'm really not surprised. We used to be a one horse town but then we ate the horse."

I laughed.

"But yes, we Norrels have been making stuff from other stuff there since the time of Queen Anne."

"Wow. Those are strong ties."

"Yeah. We like it here in Sussex," she said, eyes twinkling. "I'll take you to visit sometime. We can sit in the pub, and feed the cow, and watch the taxi drive up the road."

"I notice a lot of singulars there."

"It's a singular village."

"Chloe, honestly," I groaned, and she grinned.

"I like having you to do this with," she confessed. "You react so predictably. Half my friends think I'm batshit, the other half think I'm lame."

"You're neither. You're a criminal. Your puns would have gotten you hanged a century ago."

She smirked.

"In all seriousness, though," I said. "I... I'm so grateful that I met you."

"Mm. Flattery."

"Is it flattery if it's true?"

"I suppose that's a valid question," she said. "I know for a fact that my life's been far more interesting since you came into it. Cheers to us," she added, raising her glass, and I flushed happily as I clinked mine to hers.

"I'm definitely glad I met you," she added.

.:.

"Can I snoop over your shoulder?" she said. "I'm bored with my essay and I'm far more interested to see what you're writing..."

I glanced at her, then pushed my glasses back up onto my nose. "You'll laugh. It's terrible."

"I can do terrible," she said hopefully.

"Come on then," I sighed.

Then I squeaked as she took me literally and rested her chin on my shoulder.

I was immediately ill-at-ease; enveloped in her subtle scent. I dug my fingers into my thigh and worked hard to resist the urge to turn my face and nuzzle against her...

"I thought you said you wrote garbage," she said after a while.

"I do."

"This isn't trash. This is hilarious. The bit where he - and then she - oh. Oh, that's awesome."

"I need to find a way to turn this into a book," I said sourly. "At the moment it feels like a short story."

"So why not just write a collection of short stories, featuring some of the same characters?"

"Mm. I'm too lazy."

She laughed, and gave my shoulder a lingering caress as she moved away.

"You are going to have to tell me who you are now," she said softly. "I'm... really keen to read your works, Dawn. I'll swear an oath of silence if you need me to. I'll write it in blood if that helps..."

I sighed again.

It would come out eventually.

And... and it would be wonderfully liberating to have someone who knew...

"Swear on your heart you'll tell nobody," I said.

"I swear it," she said solemnly. "May seven years of bad sex and eternally corked wine strike me if I break my oath."

"I guess that'll do," I said.

I took a breath.

"My pseudonym is... Donovan Morgan," I said. "That's... who I wrote my bestsellers as..."

She was silent for quite some time.

"You are fucking with me," she said, at last. "There's just no way."

"What?"

"You're Donovan Morgan? The Donovan Morgan?"

"Uh..."

"You're the Donovan Morgan who wrote "Holy Vows", "The Parson's Wife" and "Once more into the Breeches"?"

"... Oh. Fuck."

Of course she'd read my books, I thought sourly. Of course...

"Now I understand. Now I understand it all. Holy shit, Dawn... holy shit. I've read your books. All three of them. Fuck me. This... this is crazy. How the fuck are you Donovan Morgan! You! He's a he! He lives somewhere near fucking Blackpool for fuck's sakes!"

"Morecambe," I said softly. "He lives in Morecambe. With his middle-aged beagle Jessie, with whom he walks down the promenade every morning and every evening, before retiring for a coffee at Brucciani, where Jessie is on first-name terms with the owner's granddaughter. He started writing under a pseudonym in 1987, but found fame when his first book under his own name became an overnight best-seller. He collects antique swords, was once trapped on a ski lift for forty-five minutes with three members of the Canadian Olympic bob sled team, and cannot resist a pun."

She stared at me, mouth open.

"Fuck me raw," she whispered at last. "It's true."

"Yes."

"Dawn... your books got me through some of the darkest periods of my life. They are so far from garbage I... I lack the words. They're silly and irreverent and ludicrous and... magical. You should take pride in them."

I flushed hot and stared at my lap.

"I'm... glad you liked them," I said softly.

"Fuck me," she whispered, shaking her head again. "I wish I could tell someone this. But I won't. You trusted me, and I will be true to that trust. But... oh my God," she laughed. "Oh God, what an evening. You're one of my three favourite authors and I didn't even know!"

"Chloe..."

"Yeah?"

"Are we... okay? Now that you know this?" I said softly.

"Babe, what on earth do you mean? You're Donovan Morgan. Of course we're fucking okay!" she crowed. Then she slid her bum up onto the table and grinned down at me. "Don't mind me, I've just got another seventeen seconds of basking in your reflected glory to go, and then I'll never mention this again. Cross my heart."

I smiled shyly.

"Now I'm definitely going to get that chair built," she said. "You owe me at least one more book before you get to rest on your laurels."

"I'm trying," I said petulantly. "But the fucking thing just doesn't work."

"So try something else for a while," she said with a gentle smile. "Let your mind work on it. You'll surprise yourself. And in the meantime," she said softly, "you should totally come and have some more wine. Then you should bath. And then I'll see about getting those twigs out of your hair for you."

.:.

"Dawn?"

"Uh huh."

"You're allowed to breathe, you know. You really stress me out when you all quiet and still the way you're doing right now. Vital signs please, babe."

"Sorry. It's... it's just..."

"Is this too much? Should I... stop?"

"No, no no no," I moaned. "It's heaven. It's... it's literal heaven..."

She snorted and slowly ran my brush down through another portion of my dark, undomesticated mane. "You need to do this more often. Your hair is a disaster, which is a crying shame because it is beautiful. These curls... oh my God. I'd kill for them. Don't you ever get it seen to?"

"No," I said softly. "I'm a recluse, remember?"

"A smoking hot recluse who needs to take better care of her body," she muttered.

I shivered.

"You alright?" she breathed.

"Sorry... I'm just so... so starved of touch that every time you brush up against me it's like someone's poking me with a cattle prod."

"You've got goosebumps everywhere. I'm... I'm not surprised if you're struggling if that's the case. Jesus Christ, will you fucking disentangle...there. You need to find someone to touch you more. To... sate you, so to speak. And you need to sort this hair out, seriously. It's gorgeous. Take better care of it, yeah?"

"Sorry..."

"Stop apologising, it wasn't even half as bad before I decided to wrestle with you."

"Wrestling was... fun," I whispered.

"What, being pinned down in the dirt and assaulted?"

"Um... yeah..."

She paused.

"You're taunting me again, aren't you," she said softly.

"Um... what... I don't understand?"

"Throwing out bait, seeing if you can get me to bite... it's not really fair, you know. Tempting me like that..."

I swallowed.

"Dawn?"

"Uh huh?"

"Can I ask you... something?" she breathed.

"What..."

I shivered as she brushed her fingers along my shoulder.

"Why are you shivering like this when I touch you?" she whispered. "Why were you smiling at me like that when I was on top of you? Is... is there... perhaps..."

"It's because I want you," I confessed in a moment of madness.

"... What?" she squeaked, shocked by my bluntness.

"I want you, Chloe. I've wanted you since maybe an hour after we met. I want you to have me. I want you to pin me down and take me. I want you to help me forget how lonely I am... even if it's just for a day..."

"Dawn.. are you drunk?"

"Maybe. Maybe I am. But... but it's so long since a woman's touched me the way you do. Since anyone has touched me how you do. I crave you. You intoxicate me. When you touch me it makes it impossible for me to think about anything but how much I want to kiss you..."

"Dawn... please... don't tempt me," she whispered with an exquisite shudder. "I'm... I wouldn't be able..."

"So touch me," I cried. "Touch me, please..."

And I cried out as she wrapped her arms around me and began to kiss my neck and shoulder.

She made a sound deep in her throat as I reached behind myself to pull her harder against me.

Then I cried out again and kicked the table as she fumbled for my breasts.

"Chloe," I moaned. "Chloe... not here..."

"Why?" she whispered. "Why tell me all that like that only to deny me... this?"

I felt her hands shift and move under my robe. I shuddered, arched backwards against her as she found and cupped my nipples.

"Chloe... please..." I begged her, panting. "Chloe, please, not here, not like this... take me to bed, take me to bed and..."

"And what..."

"And make me scream," I pleaded. "I'm so desperate for you, I'm so hot for you, I'm not going to last, I don't want to be fucked and fondled... in a chair like some cheap one night club trash, I want you on me, on me properly, in me..."

"Come then," she gasped. "Before... before you come to your senses."

She took my hand and pulled me to my feet and towed me after her. I reveled in the glance she shot over her shoulder at me - a disbelieving, open-mouthed look of awe and wonder.

"My bed," I begged her.

She bumped my door open and pulled me after her, then spun me around and pushed me over onto the covers.

And before I could even snatch a breath she was on me and kissing me.

I moaned, arched up against her, legs flailing as she drove a thigh between them.

"Dawn," she whispered. "Sweetheart, I will stop. I promise. I promise I will. I will stop the moment you need me to. Promise you'll say..."