The Way You Smile

by Kiki Archer

  Most of the journey to the restaurant had been a blur too. There had been immediate frantic kissing the second they were in the limo, with Harriet even straddling her for a moment, before they calmed down and put on their seatbelts. Camila had honestly felt like she was sixteen again with raging hormones and a total disregard for appropriate behaviour. They were meant to be taking things slowly, getting to know one another properly. She smiled across the table. They’d ordered their food and were currently enjoying a rather expensive glass of wine. “So,” said Camila, “do you believe in life after death?”

  Harriet laughed into her glass. “Interesting question.”

  “We’re getting to know each other. There’s no better way than finding out someone’s thoughts on evolution, god, the planets and so on.”

  “Oh, Camila.”

  “What?”

  “You’re so sweet.”

  “Sweet?”

  “I don’t know? You’re just innocent, which makes you really rather magical.”

  “You weren’t calling me innocent yesterday.”

  “And that was a surprise too! You’re a remarkably layered person.”

  Camila shook her head. “No, I’m not.” She shook her head again. “Definitely not.”

  “You are. Look at that dress. I recognized it as a Caroline Castigliano straight away and your hair’s so sophisticated. You look like you come to this kind of place on a nightly basis.”

  “I’m not sure I’d want to,” she glanced around, “don’t get me wrong, it is lovely.” She smiled. “But answer my question.”

  Harriet shrugged. “Is there a god? No. My mother lost twin boys during labour five years before I came along.”

  “Oh Harriet, I didn’t know.”

  “I don’t speak about it in interviews but it’s out there. Basically I wasn’t them and no matter how much I tried to be them or live up to them, I just wasn’t, and I don’t think I was ever enough for her.”

  “I’m sure you were.”

  “You weren’t there.”

  “I wasn’t, no. But your dad? How was he?”

  “They’re both still here. They’re both on the scene, but it’s functional. It always has been.”

  “Is that why you shy away from love?”

  Harriet laughed. “Don’t try and psychoanalyse me. I pay a therapist for that.”

  “You’re in therapy?”

  “Not currently.”

  Camila smiled. “I’ll continue then. Was it because you wanted to show your mother you were worth just as much as her boys that you became a lesbian?”

  Harriet laughed loudly. “Oh goodness, Camila, don’t give up your day job. You don’t just become a lesbian; you either are one or you aren’t.”

  “I might become one.”

  “No, you might embrace your fluidity or accept the possibility you could be bisexual, but you’re not a lesbian.”

  “I could become one just like I became a member of the neighbourhood watch.”

  Harriet laughed again. “How can you make that comparison?”

  “Easily. Just like I wasn’t a mother until I was.”

  “Hmmmm. Okay, instead of me trying to unwrap that, how about you just dive straight in with your thoughts on god instead, they might make more sense.”

  Camila nodded. “Okay, so the idea of a greater being is feasible. But not in the religious sense. There’s no great creator wanting you to bow down and worship him, but we’re all definitely here for a reason which means there must be something, or some source, or some grand scheme in charge of that reason.” She took a sip of her wine before continuing. “I think there’s a high possibility this whole thing could be some sort of computer game.”

  Harriet laughed loudly. “This is meant to help us bond? What if I end up thinking you’re a crackpot?”

  “Do you?”

  “Not yet, but tell me your thoughts on evolution.”

  “Hundred percent didn’t happen.”

  Harriet laughed again.

  Camila continued. “Evolution doesn’t explain how life first appeared on earth.”

  “But you’re saying it wasn’t god?”

  “Not in the traditional sense of the word, no.” Camila shrugged. “Do you have any clue how many planets are out there?”

  “I’m not an astronomer.”

  “There are more planets out there than grains of sand on our beaches.”

  “Are you a geologist too?”

  “Trillions. Billions of trillions.”

  “And….?”

  “Don’t you think that’s fascinating? Don’t you have to accept there must be something else out there? That we must be part of something greater?”

  “If I’m honest, I’m a little bit too busy to get into all that.”

  Camila smiled.

  Harriet continued. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “It’s telling. I think you’re head down, racing through life.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “I have been, yes, but I’ve always been interested in the what ifs.”

  Harriet nodded. “What if we go to the toilets for a snog?”

  Camila laughed. “You don’t like this line of conversation?”

  “I guess you’re making me feel a bit like you did the other night when you were taking off my glasses and telling me I wasn’t being true to who I really was.”

  “I didn’t say it like that!”

  Harriet shrugged. “I know life’s short, Camila, and I know it’s fascinating. I know there are lots of questions to ask, but sometimes keeping yourself busy is a good way of stopping you from having to ask those questions.”

  “And what would you question?”

  “My life.” Harriet lifted her hand. “No partner. No offspring. My family’s distant. Sometimes work’s the only thing that makes sense. Work and fun maybe?” She smiled. “Come on, let’s go to the toilets.”

  “You could kiss me here?”

  “I could, but I want more.”

  “To shut me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dinner will be here any minute,” Camila glanced up at the approaching waiter as she spoke. “And that’s not appropriate behaviour on our old-school wooing date.”

  “I’m sorry, ladies,” said the man who was serving their table. “There will be a slight delay on your starters, may I refill your glasses?”

  Harriet looked at the bottle of red sitting on the table and their glasses that were both still over half full. “We’re okay, thank you. I think we’ll have a wander in the gardens.”

  “Certainly,” said the waiter, pulling back Harriet’s chair before moving around to Camila’s side of the table.

  “We’ll take our glasses with us,” said Harriet, signalling for Camila to do the same.

  “They have gardens?” asked Camila, following Harriet’s gentle weave between the tables that actually didn’t need to be woven between due to the large distance separating the diners. “Should we collect our coats? Now this is romantic. Is there a maze? There’s always that bit in costume dramas where the betrothed couple go for a walk in a maze.”

  Harriet turned a corner, guiding them towards the outdoor seating and garden area visible through large leaded windows. It was lit by sparkly fairy lighting and tall glowing patio heaters.

  “Oh, how lovely,” said Camila, “there’s no one else out there.” She paused before following Harriet past the door that would have taken them outside. “Where are we going?” she said, confused, until Harriet’s hand slipped into her own and pulled her through a door to the left. “No, not the toilets, it looks beautiful out there.” Camila stopped. “Wait, oh wow, it’s even more beautiful in here.”

  “Restrooms. Not toilets. Obviously there are toilets just there but here’s the chaise longue, and the perfume stand, and the mints, and the sweets and—”

  “And the open door,” whispered Camila as another diner entered the space.

  Harriet nodded at the wo
man before the woman closed the door on a cubicle. “There’s a changing room just here,” she whispered.

  Camila let the hand lead her once more. “Why would there be a changing room?”

  “Same reason there’s that wicker basket full of cotton slippers. The restaurant’s often used as a wedding reception venue, guests come and get changed,” she signalled to the slippers, “and they take their heels off.”

  “But guests don’t come in here and kiss,” said Camila as Harriet closed the door to the room where there was another velvet chaise longue as well as several mirrors.

  “Trust me, they do.”

  “Wait, you do this a lot?”

  “Everyone has a past.”

  “That’s on a cycle?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Am I simply your latest bit of fun?”

  “You want to be more than that?”

  Camila paused for a moment as the feeling of what the hell am I doing washed over her once again. “I have no clue.”

  Harriet laughed. “If you’d have said yes then I might have taken seriously the idea that you’d become a lesbian, because that’s what they do: jump from meet to married in milliseconds.”

  “Right.”

  “Come here,” said Harriet, clicking the lock on the door as she pushed Camila against the wall. “I want to kiss you.”

  As the soft lips met her own and the hands rose to her waist, Camila felt every shadow of doubt disappearing as if Harriet was the sun shining out from the clouds. She moaned into the soft mouth as Harriet’s hands travelled up the side of her body towards the curve of her breast. “We only have two minutes,” she managed to whisper.

  “I only need two minutes,” said Harriet, spinning Camila round roughly so she was face first against the wall.

  “Harriet.”

  “Shhh.”

  Camila tried to speak once more but Harriet’s teeth were grazing her neck and both Harriet’s hands were cupping her breasts. Camila tried to focus. How could she tell Harriet about the Spanx? She groaned as Harriet’s hands slipped into her dress from the top. It might be okay, she reasoned, the design of the Spanx was such that her bra was out on show as normal, the tight material of the hold-everything-in one piece curved down around her stomach.

  “I love your nipples,” whispered Harriet into Camila’s ear.

  Camila groaned again as the fingers slipped inside her bra and squeezed her hardness. Her dress was tight fitting but elasticated, a bit like shrink wrapping that easily loses its suction once the air gets in there. Maybe if she slid the straps off her shoulders that would be enough for Harriet. Carefully she moved her hand up and out of the material, repeating the action on the other side.

  Harriet moaned in satisfaction, pushing Camila forward before suddenly pulling down on the cups of the bra, pressing Camila’s bare breasts against the cold wall. “You’re so intoxicating,” she whispered.

  “Kiss me then,” said Camila, turning her head to the side.

  Harriet spun Camila back around, taking hold of her hands as she kissed the lips deeply.

  Camila could feel the silkiness of Harriet’s jumpsuit pressing against her nipples. She kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to look down knowing her boobs were just there, out on display. She cursed herself. She’d done that. She’d offered them up like an aperitif. It was as if she was constantly finding herself in these situations that she’d got herself into only to be shocked that she was there. It was as if Harriet was her drug and she lost all sense of real-world normality when she was in her presence. That woman from the rest room could be out there right now hearing all of this bumping and pinging. Damn. What was that ping? Camila glanced down, Harriet had yanked on her dress but it had slapped back against her thighs. “Wait,” she gasped, mind back on the Spanx.

  Harriet kissed her harder before moving her mouth to the nipples.

  Camila stopped thinking about the Spanx.

  “I want to take you, Camila.”

  Camila moaned again before pulling herself back from the brink of total entrancement. “Wait, I’m wearing—”

  It was too late, Harriet was back at her mouth kissing her deeper, her hands on her breasts, pushing her against the wall. Kissing was fine. Feeling was fine. Moaning was fine. But what was Harriet doing now? Shit! She’d stepped backwards. She’d grabbed the sides of the dress. “Harriet!” she gasped. No! With one swift yank the dress was down. “I…”

  “What the bloody hell are you wearing?!”

  Camila felt the dress slide to her ankles. She might as well just step out of it now. She had nothing left to hide, or lose. She decided she’d just have to own it. “It’s my Spanx,” she said, bending over and giving a little wiggle.

  “I can see that!” said Harriet. “But you don’t need Spanx!”

  “Thanks,” said Camila, choosing to wander around the small changing area in the hope that she’d find an angle where the mirrors weren’t relaying the vision of herself trussed up like a piece of pork. She found herself awkwardly leaning on the back of the chaise longue.

  “What am I meant to do with your Spanx?”

  Camila shrugged as she slid down onto the velvet chair. “Well, there is a little hole just here.”

  Harriet stared at the legs that were now up and parted. “Bloody hell, Camila, is there no end to your madness?

  Camila shook her head. “Possibly not.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Placing the pile of bacon sandwiches she’d made for breakfast onto the kitchen table, Camila re-lived the moment from the restaurant’s changing room. It had happened over two weeks ago now although the memory was as clear in her mind as if it were yesterday. And, yes, while there had been an awful lot more crazily wild and highly inappropriate sex since, reminiscing about the legs spread, chaise longue, easy-access Spanx was still one of her favourites. Who knew that’s what the hole in the gusset was designed for?

  “You’re smiling again, Mum,” said Michael.

  “Am I?” laughed Camila, turning to her eldest son as he entered the kitchen before giving him a half hug, half bicep squeeze.

  “Yep. You’ve been smiling all week.”

  “It’s been a good week. Come and sit down.”

  “You invented the invention?” asked Michael, still standing.

  Camila sighed, it was the only thing getting her down at the moment. The idea that she was failing Harriet professionally. Yes, she hadn’t asked for the job, or pitched herself as an inventor, just like she hadn’t offered one iota of promise that she’d be able to invent the invention, but Harriet seemed to have this belief… that was starting to wane. Camila stopped herself. She wasn’t going to let herself fall into that trap of over-analysis. Harriet had been fine with her. A little short at work sometimes, but that was in the team environment after yet another day of no progress. She wasn’t going to let herself worry that Harriet’s slightly altered behaviour was down to her disappointment with her professionally. They were just entering a new phase of their relationship where there was more discussion and slightly less sex. Only slightly. Plus it was lovely to get to know her more deeply. It was fast becoming apparent that Harriet was quite an introverted soul despite all the extroverted sex, enjoying evenings in and quiet trips out to galleries and parks. Yes, they’d got round to doing iFly, which had been hilarious, blown around in a tube of pressurised air with goggles and what looked like a swimming cap on, and they’d had lots of laughs go-karting and zorbing, but things seemed to be slowing down slightly.

  Camila stopped herself again. They weren’t. There was just more of the other stuff going on. The day-to-day stuff. The coupley stuff. The cooking for each other and the sitting quietly whilst the other one worked. Camila smiled. Everything was fine. She’d been able to force herself to stop questioning her actions over their frantic style of sex, so she’d have to treat this in the same manner: sit back and go with it, accept things for what they were. She still had nothing to lose and this wa
s still all amazing fun. She paused. But was it still fun for Harriet? She’d been quieter, or more subdued, which probably had absolutely nothing to do with anything other than the stresses of the new business. Camila nodded. She’d have to invent the invention. “I haven’t invented it yet,” she said to her son. “How’s Cassie?”

  “She’s good. Right. School.”

  “Wait, Michael, I’ve made you some bacon sandwiches.”

  The deep voice shouted from the hallway as he disappeared through the front door. “Had a protein shake. Julie’s here. See ya, Mum.”

  “Oooh, are you serving breakfast?” asked her next door neighbour, waltzing into the house like a member of the family.

  Camila looked at Michael’s place setting. “Bacon sandwiches?”

  “See! You do miss my bloody van! When are you coming back? Debbie from two doors down is doing my bloody head in. All health and safety this, health and safety that. Plus, she’s no good for a gossip. She’s not got a rampant lesbian sex life like you, in fact she doesn’t even have sex with her old man. Says he’s impotent. Says it just lollops there like a—”

  “Morning, Ethan!” said Camila with a smile as her youngest son appeared behind Julie, her smile disappearing the second she noticed the illuminated screen of the iPad. “Will you PLEASE turn that thing OFF!”

  Julie grinned innocently. “Have your bits and bobs gone all lollopy too? Sounds like you need a good sha—”

  “Julie!”

  “You alright, Mum?” asked Ethan, taking his seat at the table.

  “Sorry, I’m just a little bit stressed at work.”

  “You’ve still not invented the invention then?”

  Julie spoke up. “Oh god, that’s one of Harriet’s phrases.” She put on a whiney voice. “She’s going to invent the invention, this one. She’s my little inventor. She’s my pocket rocket of ideas.”

  “Harriet doesn’t speak like that.”

  Ethan spoke up. “She does, Mum, and I think she likes you.”