A Work in Progress

by L. T. Smith

  “What the fuck?” I shook my head to clear it and refocused on Virgina. I had to admit, I preferred her when she was smiling and being nice to me, especially in comparison to her thin-lipped glare. I realised I needed to gush and babble more effusively than usual.

  “It just hit me that I haven’t thanked you for all your help.” Or apologised for nearly taking her lights out. I stepped closer to her and cringed inwardly as she stepped backwards. I held my hands over my head in surrender. “I promise I won’t touch you again.”

  Something flitted across her face, and I wanted to keep the image of it inside my head forever. At times like that, I usually tried to capture moments, scents, and colours, expressions or scenes to put into my stories, but this wasn’t like that. I wanted that look to be reserved for me, just for me. I hoped that it hinted of her disappointment because I’d said I wouldn’t touch her again. Why, I had no clue. It was probably just wishful thinking on my part. I didn’t even know whether she was gay, or attracted to me if she were.

  Slowly, I lowered my arms, and as I did so, Virgina placed her hand on my upper arm. Her hand slid across my skin, leaving a trail of tingles in its wake, almost as if her fingertips awakened something magical within me. When she removed her hand, I experienced the loss of her warmth immediately.

  Virgina’s face softened, and a smile played around her perfect mouth until it fully blossomed.

  I felt it burst inside my chest, the ache of it bright and sharp. The sensation made me return her smile. I couldn’t stop myself.

  “It was my pleasure. Really.” Virgina rested her hand on my arm, the heat of it both soothing and exciting me, the contact welcome. “You were a model patient.”

  Even though I knew I hadn’t been, I produced my stupid smile, the one I believed was charming but which, in all likelihood, actually made me look a sandwich short of a picnic.

  Those green-and-amber eyes locked on to mine, and the street faded away. The sparkle in those irises must have been catching the rays of the dying sun. No one I had ever known had had eyes that reflected light so readily, eyes that engaged me so completely without trying. Not even Gillian Parker. These eyes gave the impression they knew me, had always known me, and I had always known them. I fought the urge to step closer, to cup Virgina’s jaw and lean in to kiss her. Knowing that once I started, I would never stop.

  “Your pupils still look dilated.” Her voice was distant, dreamlike, almost as if she didn’t know she had spoken. “And your face is a little flushed.”

  I wanted to tell her she looked flushed too, that her pupils were growing and growing and growing, pushing out the green, eliminating the amber, but I couldn’t.

  “Hello. Is it me you’re looking for?”

  Initially I thought it was a subliminal message and answered with a yes, the stupid grin returning to my face. But it was Lionel speaking about seeing “it” in my eyes, my smile. I realised that it wasn’t one soul speaking to another and confirming “you’re all I’ve ever wanted.” It was my phone. And there I was thinking about souls, thinking about forever with a woman I had known for less time than it had taken me to choose my outfit for the evening.

  I didn’t race into my bag to retrieve my mobile and strike up a conversation with whomever was on the other end of the line just to avoid my embarrassing epiphany. I didn’t break eye contact with those gorgeous hazel eyes; I did allow the absurdity of my musings to sink in, allowed the disappointment of my own shortcomings to rise to the fore.

  “No point answering it. It’ll only be my friend, still wondering where I am.” I smiled at Virgina, nodded with some indication of decision and continued, “We’d better get going before she sends out a search party.” My laugh sounded forced, even to my own ears.

  Instead of answering, Virgina nodded. Her eyes closed momentarily, breaking their connection with mine. She turned towards our destination, her action indicating that whatever had transpired between us was now officially over.

  Moments later we passed the church of St Simon and St Jude, then turned right onto Wensum Street. The pavement was more even on Wensum, so my gait returned to something more approaching normal. That didn’t keep my arm from deliberately brushing against Virgina’s now and again. The thrill of my arm touching hers was amazing. Each time the connection was made, it felt as if that was the point where my body was alive, as the energy bubbling there was almost electric.

  I risked a sidelong glance at her. She appeared to be intent on our route, her expression not indicating anything amiss or exceptional. We continued walking in silence. When I peeked at her again from the corner of my eye, I saw that she was doing the same thing—those hazel eyes were observing me as I was observing her. The sensation of having been caught alerted the blood cells to race to the surface of my face, creating a blush that was both hot and exposing. I quickly looked away, my focus directed to the ground.

  Her arm brushed mine again, and the heat of it spread down my arm and across my chest. Without thinking, I turned to look at her, and found that she was looking directly at me. There was no sidelong glance this time. This time it was a full-on look, and again I was captivated by her.

  My step faltered, and Virgina’s hand curved against my back and steadied me, her fingertips providing gentle support. I leaned into her touch, my body seeming to find a welcome familiarity in her presence.

  “You okay?” Her voice was as soft as before, and still as kind and concerned, but there was something else there, too, something that hinted at more than a general worry about my welfare.

  All I had supposed about her in the last ten minutes went up in smoke. I couldn’t be 100 percent certain Virgina was gay, but I’d never seen a straight woman look at me the way she was looking at me. And I had never responded to a straight...

  Wrong. I had responded to a straight woman in that way before. Actually, I had definitely responded to one particular straight woman that way on countless occasions, for numerous years. Gillian Parker had made me feel that way, but unlike now, I had never had the impression my feelings had been returned the way I had wanted them to be returned.

  “I think you need to sit down for a little while. Come. There’s a hotel about twenty feet ahead of us. Maybe you could sit for a little while in their lounge area before I take you where you need to go.”

  Virgina’s hand pressed against the base of my back, and I willingly moved in the direction she was guiding me. Looking ahead, I realised the hotel she was referring to was The Maids Head, the place where I would have to say goodbye to the only woman, apart from Gill, that had sparked a reaction from someplace other than my libido. I had a sudden urge to throw myself to the ground again, just so I would have some extra time with her, but I didn’t think that would be the best way to entice the beautiful woman to stay with me. I didn’t want to freak her out with my weirdness, at least not any more than I already had.

  I gave her another sly glance and would have bet that she had just been doing the same with me. She must have been feeling some attraction too. She just had to be. I wished I was the kind of person who could just speak her mind, ask another woman out for a drink, but that really wasn’t in my make-up. I was more of the hanging-on-until-it-may-or-not-happen kind of girl.

  “Here we go.”

  Fuck. The entrance had come up bloody quickly, and I had wasted the remaining couple of minutes I had with Virgina worrying about not having the balls to ask her on a date.

  To add insult to injury, she moved her hand from my back and I felt the coolness of the foyer air on the warmed spot.

  “Here. You can sit on this seat for a moment.” Virgina moved towards the armchair just before the reception area. “Can I get you a glass of water or something?”

  She looked so enchanting as she waited for me to make a decision, that I nearly asked her for her number, asked her for a date, asked her for anything that would allow me to see her again. Instead, I smiled the British stiff-upper-lipped smile I did so well and held out my hand.


  Green-and-amber eyes flicked to my extended palm, confusion flitting over her face before realisation kicked in.

  “Thank you so very much, Virgina, for all your help. I’m just going to freshen up in the restroom and I’ll be fine.”

  I wanted her to insist on coming into the restroom with me, insist on making sure I was delivered into my friend’s care, but she didn’t. She hesitated slightly before slipping her hand into mine, a small tug indicating the finality of the contact. Her hand stayed cradled in mine, the warmth of it soothing and familiar.

  “It has been my pleasure, Brynn. It is just a pity we couldn’t have met under different circumstances.”

  This was my chance, my moment. All I had to do was ask for her number, ask if I could see her again, even if it was only to thank her for her kindness.

  I tore my gaze from our joined hands and was caught by her look. Maybe it was the lighting in the foyer, or it truly was the magical spark of her soul shining in those hazel eyes, but their flash shot straight into my chest.

  “Can I... Can I...?”

  “Yes. I’d love to.”

  I didn’t know what I was going to say and she didn’t know what she had agreed to, but that didn’t inhibit the euphoria spreading through me like melting chocolate.

  I pulled my hand free from hers and scrabbled inside my bag. My phone, for once, seemed to slip effortlessly into my grip. I punched in my password and looked expectantly at Virgina. She had her phone out, waiting, and I was pleasantly surprised that she had moved even more quickly on the draw than I had.

  “If you give me your number, I’ll call you now so you’ll have mine too.” I’d seen that in a film somewhere. It was way too slick a move for me to have come up with.

  As I looked at my screen, I noted the missed calls from Gill. Usually I would have been disappointed that I had missed even the smallest contact from her, but I flicked the screen to open my phonebook, the need to respond to Gill coming in a distant second to me obtaining Virgina’s number. I was probably feeling that way because I would be seeing Gill in a few minutes anyway. Or maybe not. Maybe it was something deeper.

  I typed in Virgina and peered up to where she was standing. She was just staring at me, her phone dangling from her hand. Was she regretting her impulse?

  I tentatively prompted her with “I’m ready,” and inwardly prayed that she wouldn’t close her phone and announce that although I was ready, she wasn’t, and her eleven digits would be staying a secret from me.

  I needn’t have worried. Those coveted numbers gushed out of her mouth with controlled abandon. Surprised that she had actually given me her number, I had to ask her to repeat them.

  My sense of achievement was wonderful as I pressed Save Contact. I’d not only asked a woman out, kind of, but actually augmented her acceptance with a way to get in contact with her.

  “So, are you going to call me?”

  Damned right I was going to call her, but I didn’t say that. That would have made me seem a little too eager. “Have you a preference as to when?” My voice was more controlled than my insides, where butterflies were dancing about as if they were at a rave and smacked off their tits.

  The confusion on Virgina’s face mirrored the expression on my own. “How about right now?”

  And I thought I was being a little too eager.

  “For me to get your number.”

  Fuck. And then fuck. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been my suggestion in the first place. No wonder she had looked confused. My laugh sounded nervous and a tad fake, but I knew if I tried to improve on it, it would only get worse.

  “Sorry. I... Well... Ignore me, okay? Memory of a fruit fly.” That was a lie. I didn’t forget anything, ever, especially when it came to beautiful women and their phone numbers. Well, apart from making the suggestion of passing on my phone number by calling hers. That was a slip-up.

  The blush started at the base of my neck and was working its way upwards, climbing over my chin to spread across my face in glorious incandescent red. The heat of it would have been enough to toast marshmallows. As if I hadn’t embarrassed myself enough times already in the short time I’d known her, here was another to add to my repertoire.

  I pressed her contact link and the Call button attached to her name, and was immediately treated to a song that made Lionel Richie’s “Hello” seem like Radio One’s song of the week.

  Virgina clicked Decline Call and stared at her phone for what seemed an age.

  “Is that ‘MMMBop’?” The humour was evident in my tone. I hadn’t heard that song for years, or if I had, I had purposely blocked it out. Hanson had never been the pick of the pops for me. Teenage boys in need of a haircut and their balls to drop were a definite no-no on my iPod.

  Virgina chuckled, then sighed like someone resigned to having the piss ripped out her. She peered at me. “It’s a joke ringtone.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  Was I flirting? Or attempting to flirt? Both of which were unheard of from me.

  “Yeah.”

  And was she flirting back? Please, God, let her be flirting back.

  “Anyway, I’d better let you get on with your evening. Are you sure you don’t need me to—”

  “Yes. Honestly, I’m fine.”

  More than fine. I had the potential to meet this gorgeous woman again, a gorgeous woman who not only had shown an interest in me, but had flirted back when I had attempted to do it.

  “Call me, okay? Or I’ll call you.” I waited a moment for effect. “And embarrass you again about your taste in music.”

  She chuckled delightfully, then stopped. The air between us was thick with expectancy, but now was not the time or place to take this where I wanted this to go.

  “Right. I’d better go and freshen up. Thank you again, Virgina. Speak soon.” I stepped forwards as if to embrace her, but stopped before I could be overfamiliar. Getting someone’s phone number and realising that maybe there was a mutual attraction did not warrant me salivating all over her.

  Then it happened. Strong hands cupped my shoulders and drew me forwards. A warm mouth closed in on my cheek, soft lips brushing first one side, then the other. I didn’t have time to react, as it was over and done within a matter of seconds, but the effects of it were exploding through my body, and my eyes closed in pleasure. It wasn’t just the feel of her mouth on my skin, it was the scent of her being so close. Why hadn’t I noticed it before? It was all-consuming, enveloping, perfectly her. It filled my nostrils, my mouth, my chest, but not in a suffocating way. No, not suffocating at all. The sensation of inhaling Virgina was positively mind-blowingly wonderful, and I wanted to keep inhaling her, and inhaling her, and inhaling all that was her.

  “Laters, Brynn.”

  By the time I opened my eyes again, she had gone, her scent lingering in the air.

  With a soft sigh, I turned and headed in the direction I believed the toilets would be, my step a little lighter, my soul a little happier.

  Chapter 8

  I’d barely finished washing up my hands and taking a close look at the damage before my phone rang. A grin erupted, stretching my lips to their widest. I fully expected to see Virgina’s name appear on the screen, but it was Gill’s face that greeted me and not that of the woman with whom I had spent the early part of the evening. The grin slipped, my mouth slackening enough to release the sigh that reflected my deflating mood. I should have been joyous, ecstatic. It was Gillian Parker! My Gill! The woman I’d been in love with forever was calling me, and I was wishing that it was someone else.

  What the fuck? Why on earth would I be wishing that? I loved Gill, always had. Even if she would never know it, would never be mine, I still loved her.

  “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?”

  Gill’s tone indicated she was pissed off, and I was surprised. Not because she was pissed off, but because I hadn’t picked up her call and I could still hear her.

  “I’m behind you, you twi
t.”

  I swung around and saw Gill half-in, half-out of the doorway to the restroom. She rolled her eyes at me and stepped inside.

  “I’ve been calling you for the last forty minutes. You’re late.”

  “Great to see you, Brynn. Thanks for coming, Brynn. Oh, Brynn, have you hurt yourself?” My tone was sarcastic but not malicious.

  “You’ve hurt yourself?” Gill stepped forwards, her eyes and hands checking me over. When she turned my hands over and saw the palms, air hissed in through her teeth. “These must sting like a bitch.”

  I nodded, trying to look tough whilst she prodded the grazed skin. I felt every poke and had to stop the expletives attempting to grind their way through gritted teeth.

  “What happened? You okay?” She stepped back, her hands still gently holding mine as she lifted them to check me over some more. “Did you fuck over in those heels?”

  Words suddenly failed me, so I nodded. It wasn’t Gill being so concerned about my welfare that rendered me speechless; it was that I didn’t feel that sudden rush I usually got when I saw her that knocked me off-kilter. For the last twenty years or so, Gillian Parker’s presence had always elicited some physical reaction from me, whether it was a blush or palpitations. When she was near, my heart would go crazy, my blood seemed to pump more quickly through my veins, everything seemed to have more purpose. But now? Now it was just me and Gill in the loos, with her checking over my bumps and bruises.

  “I’m fine, Gill. Just stumbled in these bloody shoes.” I tugged my hands free from hers and held them closer to my face for examination. “I think I’ve got all the shit out of them.”

  “Tom can look at them. He won’t mind.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll live.” I grinned at her and winked. “Just.”