by Kiki Archer
“What is there to say?”
Camila let the silence hang in the air, before voicing her query as nonchalantly as she could. “She just mentioned that you might not be in for a while.”
“Ignore Deana, she’s always trying to organise me. What was this email about? The one from the lift?”
“Oh, I just tried to get hold of you. I wanted to know about iFly. I realised I hadn’t got your number.”
“I said I’d be in.”
“I know.”
“But you walked out.”
“I know.”
“Are you coming back?”
“If you’ll have me?”
“I’ll have you.”
Camila smiled at the tone.
Harriet continued. “I got called to an emergency meeting yesterday morning. I have a lot of commitments. But if I say I’m doing something, I do it.”
“Right.” Camila shook her head. She felt utterly foolish. “So it wasn’t about me pushing you with my questioning in the limo?”
“Was that you pushing me?”
“Ignore me,” said Camila before whispering to herself: “I have no life.” How could she have failed to understand the huge life Harriet led? She clearly had lots of things going on. She was clearly someone who had a schedule that wouldn’t allow time for stewing or analysing or maybe even taking things personally. The last thing she’d want was a needy idiot trying to attract her attention.
Harriet spoke first. “Okay, maybe it was. Just a little bit. But that’s not why I was late yesterday. Yes, I cut our ride short because I felt you were getting too close to my truth but then all this has happened and I haven’t had time to think about any of that.”
“What’s your truth, Harriet?”
The voice was quiet. “You get me. You see me.”
Camila smiled on her side of the door. “I unmasked you.”
“I think you did. Or you were trying to, and I felt vulnerable. Maybe my glasses are a bit of a disguise? A protection of sorts, but you saw straight through me.” Harriet spoke again only louder this time. “But I see you too and I know people were mean but you can’t run away from things. I heard you held your own in the focus group. Doug, Deana and the team were really impressed.”
Camila straightened her back against the wall. As much as she’d love to delve deeper into Harriet’s admission it was obvious from her surroundings that Harriet was so much more than the front she presented. “They were?” she said instead.
“And that Tina’s gone.”
“She has?”
“Things move fast. You can’t look away for a second. You also can’t pick up shifts on your friend’s bacon butty van when you’re meant to be inventing the next invention.”
“I’m not an inventor.”
“You’re a blue sky thinker. You have a secret smile. There’s a real depth to you, Camila.”
Again, like the hot comments, whatever Harriet’s motivation was Camila decided she was going to take the praise with both hands.
“And you don’t need to worry about work. I got to the bottom of everything yesterday. I spoke to Helen. I told the team what you’d discovered about your initials and that you were rightly taking a moment to take stock. But remember, Camila, like I said to them all, I hired you because of what I saw in that first focus group, and Deana and the team agreed yesterday. Deana said she chased after you to tell you.”
Camila realised that Deana would never let on to Harriet that people read and laughed about her personal emails so she’d obviously omitted that part of the story which was probably a saving grace for them all. “So you know about the acronym awards?”
“I do.”
“You don’t try and stop it?”
“I’ve stopped it. Admittedly it went on for too long without me realising but we’re in the age of #MeToo. It’s not appropriate for you or Pamela Isabelle Simpon Smith or Alan Simon Stevens or Sally Lucy Ulrika Tonks to have those initials on show.”
Camila gasped and laughed. “There is not a Sally Lucy Ulrika Tonks!”
“There is, and, yes, childishly I used to find it quite funny too, as did the other fair-weathered acronymed employees, but I know it’s cruel. We’re overhauling the whole system. I think Pamela wanted to pass over the mantle before it was scrapped entirely.” Harriet sighed. “Listen, Camila, I understand it must have hurt your feelings but you have a job to do. I want this new business to succeed. To win. You’re going to be instrumental in that. You’re a special person, Camila. That’s why I came to get you today. Although I must admit I was disappointed you didn’t come in to work this morning. My gut was telling me you would… maybe not for the business, but possibly for me.”
“I didn’t think you’d be there.”
“I’m here. In fact, I’m just the other side of the door.”
“Give me five.” Camila stood up and turned the water back on, giving her hair a final rinse before replacing the head of the razor and returning it to its original position. Wrapping her body in a super soft towel, Camila used another to soak the moisture from her hair then combed out the tangles. Unlocking the door, she stepped into the hallway to find Harriet patiently leaning on the wall, arms folded. “And now I’m on this side of the door with you.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Was that meant to be some sort of coming out metaphor?” Harriet was kneeling on the floor next to the sofa, opening up a first aid kit. “The bit about you being on my side of the door?”
Camila clamped her knees together, all confidence lost. Here she was in just a towel with the stunningly gorgeous Harriet Imogen Pearson on the floor seeing to her injuries. “I was just announcing my departure from the bathroom,” she managed.
“Do you usually do that?”
“I don’t usually do any of this.”
“What? Have someone see to your wounds?” Harriet gently parted Camila’s legs.
Camila’s eyes fluttered at the contact. Harriet was focusing on her left knee, carefully rubbing in antiseptic cream before applying a gauze dressing. It was similar to the time she’d had to go for physiotherapy for her broken elbow three years ago. A silly slip in the snow leading to eight weeks in a cast to set her arm at a right angle. It was the physiotherapist’s job to re-straighten it once the cast was off, meaning twelve weeks of manipulation and strengthening sessions designed to restore full movement, a difficult task given that she couldn’t straighten her arm even halfway. But she’d found herself enjoying those sessions immensely and looking forward to them week on week because of the physical contact she was receiving. The physiotherapist was roughly her age and reasonably pretty, but it wasn’t about who she was, it was about what she was doing. Her fingers pulling and rubbing, using her strength to gently manipulate the arm.
Camila guessed it was similar to the one-minute head massage you got at the hairdressers when your head was over the sink with the conditioner on: probing fingers eliciting a physical reaction. That’s what Harriet was doing now. Whether she meant it to or not, her gentle smoothing touch around the gauze was having the same effect. Camila let herself close her eyes for a second. How sad that the most arousing touch she’d experienced in a very long time came because of a fall in Julie’s bacon butty van. She didn’t mind though. It was just nice to be cared for. Being a mother to two teenage boys was hard. They didn’t hug back properly anymore and they certainly didn’t stroke your cheek or hold your hand like they used to and she missed that contact. Of course it wasn’t arousing, just like this wasn’t arousing, it was just tender and caring.
“I want to fuck you, Camila.”
Fuck. She was aroused. Keeping her eyes closed, Camila contemplated staying still until it all went away. But did she want it all to go away? She didn’t know. All she knew was that Harriet had parted her legs further and was now kneeling in between them. And how did she know this? Well she could feel Harriet’s hands on the base of her bottom pulling their bodies together and connecting them both at the waist. Camila knew
if she opened her eyes Harriet would be there, directly in front of her, eye level in her kneeling position. What should she do? Her towel was still covering her modesty but one movement and it would fall to the sides, exposing everything. When was the last time she exposed everything? She had a good body but she hadn’t used it sexually in a very long time. Would Harriet want her to use it sexually? And what would she want her to do? Mick used to like a dirty lap dance. He’d be in his jeans but she had to be naked, grinding on top of him. Camila cringed.
“Sorry, you don’t want this.” Harriet moved out of her position, turning her attention back to the first aid kit. “But please don’t cringe.”
Camila flashed open her eyes and looked down at the scene. “No, it wasn’t you.”
“You’re not going to say: It wasn’t you, it was me, are you?”
“It was Mick.”
“Mick?”
“Ignore me. Come back.”
Harriet was smiling. “You want me to come back between your legs?”
“I don’t know what I want. I want time to make up my mind. Come back and let me decide.” Camila re-closed her eyes as she felt Harriet move back into position. She could smell her perfume. She could sense her presence. This was the moment where she had to decide. Would she be able to treat it like those other occasions in her life where she’d been frivolous? Like that time she’d let the hairdresser take three inches off her hair instead of one. She’d not planned it, she’d simply said yes when asked, and it was a big change; three inches made an awful lot of difference. Then there was the time she’d switched her broadband on the doorstep. A cold caller. She never said yes to cold callers, but that time she’d just given it a go; she wasn’t sure what had convinced her, she’d just felt like acting out. Was this acting out? Could this even be categorised in the same manner? Her hair grew back and she’d returned to having just the one inch cut off, and in regards to her broadband she’d ending up returning to the original supplier after twelve months. Could she let Harriet fuck her and then return to her life if she wanted?
The thought of letting Harriet fuck her sent another quiver down her spine.
“You clearly don’t want this,” said Harriet moving back out of her position. “I saw you shudder again.”
“No, that was a good quiver, that was an anticipatory shiver.”
Harriet rose back up on her knees. “And what are you anticipating?”
“You fucking me,” said Camila, reaching out for Harriet’s glasses.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever you want.” There, she’d said it. She wanted this, or she wanted to try it at the very least. Life was short, that’s what she’d learnt recently. Life was also very boring, that’s what she’d learnt over the course of the past fifteen years to the extent that she potentially believed that life was actually taken away from you the second you gave life to another. Maybe this was finally her time. A new job. A new love interest. She felt Harriet’s lips move to her neck. A new sensation entirely.
“I really want to fuck you,” whispered Harriet. “I want to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.”
Camila turned her lips towards Harriet’s cheek, enjoying the soft sensation of their faces together. “What will you do?”
“I’ll make you come, so hard, and so many times.”
Camila groaned. Harriet’s words were spoken so gently but they had such an edge, and it wasn’t an edge like Mick’s words when he’d growl: Give me a blowjob, or Suck me harder. This was about her and her pleasure. She cursed herself. She needed to stop thinking about Mick. She needed to stop comparing this. She needed— Harriet’s lips were suddenly on hers, Harriet’s tongue gently pushing into her mouth. Camila moaned, she needed to just go with this, as this was so incredibly good. Pushing into the kiss, Camila found her hands at the back of Harriet’s neck, pulling her closer, forcing more of her into her mouth. The kiss had morphed from a gentle connection of lips to a frantic, moaning, all-encompassing snog. She was snogging Harriet Imogen Pearson. She was snogging her really hard.
“Slow down,” said Harriet, pulling out of the embrace. “Come with me.”
Camila let herself be led from the sofa, using her spare hand to keep her towel in place.
“And you can leave that there if you like.”
Camila dropped the towel. She gasped at herself. She’d dropped the fucking towel. Deliberately. She was naked, being led by Harriet Imogen Pearson into one of the bedrooms.
“You continue to surprise me, Camila.”
Camila didn’t answer. She was in shock at the way she was continuing to surprise herself. Where had this come from? This confidence? This sod it and see attitude? This sweary sod it and see attitude? Was it because she actually wasn’t that invested in Harriet or this situation, or was it because she was head over heels invested in this situation and wanted to give it her best shot? Harriet had said she could leave the towel there so she’d left it there.
“You have an incredible body,” continued Harriet, pulling Camila into one of the rooms they’d not yet explored.
Camila looked around. It was a bedroom positioned in the centre of the apartment with no windows, just a gentle pink haze glowing out from a small pink lamp on the bedside table.
Harriet followed Camila’s gaze. “I turned it on when you were in the shower.”
“So this is your sex bedroom?”
“It’s just a bedroom with good walls.” Harriet closed the door and pushed Camila against one of them. “No pictures.” Harriet parted Camila’s legs with her own before grabbing Camila’s wrists and pinning them above her head. “No need to worry about anything falling when I fuck you.”
“You’re going to fuck me against this wall?”
“I’m going to fuck you everywhere.”
Camila could feel herself getting wetter. Harriet had only kissed her once but her direct statements were turning her on. She had imagined lesbian sex to be all flowers and chocolates. Gentle stroking and kissing, not this full-on, foul-mouthed fucking. “What are you going to fuck me with?”
“My fingers. My mouth. My words.”
Camila groaned again as Harriet’s lips returned to her neck. “I like you talking,” she whispered, remembering how Mick had always been so silent during sex, barring the times he demanded something, or grunted in completion. Harriet’s soft voice, however, was adding to the anticipation, making her want all the things on offer.
“I want you to let yourself go,” said Harriet.
Camila whispered into her ear. “Look at me. I’m naked and spread eagled against the wall.”
“That’s too good an invitation,” said Harriet, keeping the wrists in position but stepping backwards.
Camila watched as Harriet appraised her from top to toe, her eyes definitely pausing on her chest and the area between her legs. “What do you like best?” she asked.
“I like your neck,” said Harriet, stepping back in and kissing it gently. “And I like how your collar bone protrudes just here,” she continued, teasing the area with her tongue. “And I like your nipples,” she said, sliding Camila’s wrists lower down the wall before taking a nipple completely in her mouth.
Camila cried out at the contact. Harriet’s tongue was circling one of the most tender areas on her body and her teeth were nipping at the hardness. It was all so forward and fast. She closed her eyes and moaned again, conscious she could very easily get carried away, and while that was obviously what she’d expected to happen, she wanted to savour every second and enjoy every moment of this surreal, yet so real, situation.
“Let me see you,” she managed, before pushing against Harriet’s grasp and switching their positions against the wall. She smiled at the look of surprise on Harriet’s face. “What? I like to give as good as I get.” Camila released Harriet’s hands and moved her fingers to the small buttons on Harriet’s work shirt. It was like she was unwrapping a present she’d not been expecting. Those were often
the best kind. The complete surprises, just like the course of the morning. She popped the third button down and Harriet’s black lace bra and ample breast came into view.
“Kiss me,” said Harriet, lifting her hands to Camila’s face.
Camila continued to stare at the cleavage. “I want to see more of you,” she said, undoing the final buttons and sliding the shirt over Harriet’s shoulders to drop to the floor. Next she reached around to the back of the bra, unclasping the catch and slipping the lace straps down Harriet’s arms. The feeling that shot through her body was one of raw desire. Harriet’s breasts were magnificent, so full, with nipples that were so hard.
“Kiss me,” said Harriet again.
Camila reached for a breast as she pushed her body into Harriet’s, their nipples pressing hard into each other. She kissed Harriet’s lips with force and moaned into her mouth as her thumb made contact with Harriet’s nipple. She circled it gently. Harriet’s tongue responded, circling her own deep inside her mouth. Camila groaned, this was so hot and so sexy. She felt sexy. She felt like she was as much in control as being controlled. This thing was mutual, they were both getting off on each other. She moaned again. Harriet’s hand had come to join her own, working on her breast, on her nipple. Camila pressed her leg in between Harriet’s. “I want to feel all of you,” she said.
“So take my trousers off,” came the whispered reply.
Camila continued to kiss Harriet’s mouth as her fingers found the button and the zip. She glanced down; Harriet’s trousers were now around her ankles and her black lace knickers were on show. Camila rolled at the material on either side of Harriet’s hips before gingerly dropping to her knees and pulling down the knickers, managing not to flinch as her injured leg made contact with the ground. And, yes, while she was at waist level to help Harriet step out of her trousers and underwear, she was also down there to look. She wanted to see Harriet. To stare at the area between her legs. It looked so smooth and enticing, and it was just there. Camila paused momentarily. It was now or never: Like the call to dance at a wedding. The longer you left it the harder it was to get up and join in. The best course of action was giving it your all from the start, and small side-steps around a handbag wouldn’t do, you had to get down there and floor slap to Oops Upside Your Head. Camila re-focused. If that dance floor called you, you went. Bringing her mouth forward, she made contact with the smooth skin.
