Highland Fling

by Anna Larner

  Speaking from the kitchen, Moira replied, “Yes, it was good. It was good to get away, to think.”

  “Right.”

  “I had some stuff to work out.” Moira’s tone implied there was more to say.

  Stuff to work out? Eve looked into the kitchen, catching a glimpse of Moira through the half-open door.

  “If this pilot goes well it could become a permanent course,” Moira continued, her steady voice betraying no emotion.

  Work stuff—so nothing to do with me. “Would it mean you moving to the Cairngorms?”

  “No.” Moira carried two mugs into the sitting room and gestured for Eve to take a seat on the sofa. “Newland is where I belong. They won’t need me as often when they’ve got it up and running.”

  “Right. Cool.” Eve wasn’t sure why Moira’s answer made her feel so relieved.

  “You’ll have to let me know if you want me to light the fire, I’m not quick to feel the cold,” Moira said, nodding towards the hearth.

  “I’m okay,” Eve said, smiling, taking her drink from Moira. “Thank you.”

  From behind the steam of her coffee, Eve looked around Moira’s sitting room. A dining room table with a drop leaf sat under a small window, which looked out onto the front driveway. A pile of correspondence and centre leaflets spilled across its surface. The curtains at the window had a pretty floral pattern which lent a soft contrast to the dark stained furniture and hardwood flooring.

  “I’ll close them,” Moira said in the direction of the curtains.

  Eve said quickly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy.”

  Off the sitting room was a small kitchen, and Eve could see the bottom of stairs which, she guessed, led to bedrooms and a bathroom.

  “I have a sunroom.” Moira nodded towards the other side of the sitting room. “It has the best view of the loch. Although it’s used more as a greenhouse. I grow veg, tomatoes, and the like.”

  It was clear that Moira was incredibly green fingered. Various vessels in her sitting room had something sprouting and pretty in them. Seed packets rested against nearly every surface, and there was a faint sweet, herbal smell in the room, accompanied by a lingering undertone of woodsmoke.

  “I like your painting,” Eve enthused, staring at a picture of the loch and mountains hanging above the fireplace. The lamplight illuminated the raised surface of the oils, defining every brushstroke and contour. The dark burnt black oil paint, slicked with ochre and creamy whites, recreated the surface of the loch, so that it shined, rippled, broke against the embankments of the ornate frame.

  “Yes? My father painted it,” Moira observed, with a wistful tone. “I remember watching him as a child, the concentration on his face, his shirt smudged in paint.”

  “Your father was a painter? That’s cool,” Eve said with a nod, her gaze fixed, captivated, upon the painting.

  “Not by profession,” Moira replied. “He was a crofter. It’s in our blood, like generations of our family before him. That said, his father broke with tradition and turned away to engineering. He did well—he had Foxglove, the house next door, built. Dad said it was as if his father needed to prove something to the community. He tried to get Dad to follow in his footsteps, but he never settled.” Moira glanced across to Eve, who sat nursing her drink, listening patiently to every word. Moira continued, with a sigh, “When my mother died, well, Dad found consolation in painting. I’ve still got his brushes and paint pots somewhere. Daft really.”

  “No. Why’s that daft? That’s beautiful. Your home’s beautiful, Moira.”

  Moira looked at Eve, her expression embarrassed and incredulous in the face of Eve’s compliment.

  “It’s small, but, well, there’s only me living here.” Moira sank heavily into her armchair and took a swig of her coffee.

  “It’s only me at my place too. I rent a small one-bedroom flat in the centre of Leicester. Although”—Eve giggled—“I often end up sharing it with my best mate. She’s a nurse and my flat’s near the hospital so she often stays over.”

  Moira looked at Eve.

  Eve shook her head. “No, I mean, we’re not together, we just hang out a lot. I mean, I’m single.” Eve was finding it hard to read Moira’s expression.

  Moira looked away from Eve, stood, and reached for a drinks decanter on the sideboard by the fireplace.

  Eve noticed that there were no photos on the sideboard or, for that matter, anywhere else in the room.

  “Do you have relatives in Newland?” Eve asked, casually.

  “Want one?” Moira lifted an empty whisky glass to make the point.

  Hell, yeah. “Yes, thank you.” Eve glanced at her half-full coffee mug and set it aside on the floor by her feet.

  Eve watched Moira with her back to her pour them both a drink. Moira was wearing a blue brushed cotton chequered shirt with dark blue cord trousers. Her feet were bare against the wooden floor. Eve’s gaze fell upon the curls of hair at Moira’s neck brushing at her collar. I want to kiss your neck.

  Eve felt herself blush as Moira turned around and handed Eve her drink before leaning against the sideboard to face her.

  “I’m an only child and my parents passed away some time ago now,” Moira said, with matter-of-fact dispassion.

  “Right, I see,” Eve said, taking a sip of the whisky. It was sweet, mellow, and warming. “I guess it must be a bit weird, me being here—having a stranger in your home.”

  Moira gave Eve a quizzical look and, as if choosing her words carefully, replied, “You’re hardly a stranger to me, Eve. If I’m quiet it’s because I don’t really know what to say. I enjoy your company, you make me feel…”

  Eve encouraged, “I make you feel?”

  “I guess it’s having someone new to talk to. We’re a small community and, well, it’s nice.” Moira drained her whisky dry and turned away from Eve to pour herself another.

  Eve felt a sting of disappointment. Nice? Nice was sunshine on a walk. Nice was bread and butter pudding. Nice was not Thank God she’s come to rip my clothes off. And what about their kissing? Surely Moira had not forgotten it already, was that just nice too? Eve, feeling hurt, wrapped her arms around herself, holding the whisky against her folded arm.

  Moira turned back around, looked at her glass, ran her forefinger round its edge, and asked quietly, “How long have you known you were gay?”

  Eve, startled a little, stumbled over her words. “I think I’ve always known. I mean, I never really had boyfriends, well, not properly. Being with a woman, I don’t know, it just feels right to me.”

  Moira stood watching Eve, looking at her lips as she spoke, lip-reading the words as if deriving meaning from sound alone was not enough.

  Eve did not know what she could ask Moira in return.

  “Do you, I mean, have you?” Eve paused and looked down. “You seem to like me. I mean, I think you like me. You seemed to enjoy kissing me.” Eve dared to look up.

  Moira stood motionless, staring at her whisky glinting gold in her glass.

  “It’s okay, Moira.” Eve shook her head. “I’m always getting things wrong. In fact, I’m really not very good at this at all, really I’m not. Ask my friend Rox. I’m hopeless at gaydar, I mean—”

  “Gaydar?” Moira asked, her expression curious.

  “Gaydar, well, I guess, it’s a sense of someone’s sexuality without it being confirmed by them either way. It’s kind of gay guessing.”

  “Right.” There was a slight pause. “And what did you guess about me?” Moira sat down as she spoke.

  “That you liked me. And, by like, I mean fancy. And then, of course, you kissed me.” There, no going back now. “And that’s okay, because I fancy you too. I’ve thought about you constantly since we first met. Really I have.” Sod it. “I’ve been fantasizing about you.” Eve was on a roll. “About you kissing me, like you did before, and touching me, and me kissing you, touching you, making love to you.” Eve ran out of breath, just managing to ask, “Do you feel that way about
me too?”

  “Yes”—Moira’s voice broke—“but I can’t.” She looked at Eve. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

  Eve moved from the sofa and knelt in front of Moira. “Then don’t say anything. You see, it’s okay, it’s okay to want me. Really, it’s okay.”

  Moira could feel herself trembling.

  Eve’s hands rested on Moira’s knees, her left hand covering Moira’s hand.

  Moira felt the warmth of Eve resting against her, as she asked, “What now?”

  Moira watched Eve’s every move, as Eve lifted Moira’s hand to her mouth and kissed the back of it, the side of it, the palm.

  The truth was that Moira knew that the sensible thing would be to stop what was happening, to ask Eve to leave. But that night, feeling the intense sensation of Eve close to her, she could feel her resolve unravelling, collapsing, giving way to a deep, inevitable need.

  Moira’s gaze fell to Eve’s shirt, to each button that led from Eve’s neck, to her chest, to her stomach.

  In response, Eve slowly undid the buttons of her shirt.

  Moira shifted in her seat. She could feel her heart pounding.

  “Is this okay?” Eve looked directly at Moira. Her eyes fixed upon her, questioning, seeking confirmation.

  Moira Burns did not know Eve Eddison, but every instinct she had, all of her forty-six years of life, told her clearly that Eve was a good person. A good person Moira could trust.

  Moira took a deep breath. “Yes.” Tears gathered at her lower eyelids. “Yes. I—”

  Before Moira could say anything else, Eve leant forward and kissed her on the mouth. As she kissed her again, Moira opened her mouth slightly to receive Eve’s lips. Eve held the side of Moira’s legs, her torso resting against Moira’s knees.

  Moira cupped Eve’s flushed cheeks in her hands as they kissed.

  At that moment, it felt to Moira that there was nothing in the world except them. No croft, no wood, no loch, no sky, no one else, nothing, just the intense momentum of their need for each other.

  Eve let out an mmm as their kissing deepened.

  In response to the signals of pleasure from Eve, Moira instinctively, thoughtlessly slid Eve’s shirt off her shoulders, running her hands over Eve’s bare shoulders and down her arms.

  Eve was wearing her blue vest top that she often wore in bed. She was aware that her nipples had become pronounced through her bra and through her top. And Moira was looking at them.

  Moira looked quickly up to Eve and blushed.

  “It’s okay,” Eve said quietly, lifting the vest over her head and letting it drop to the floor.

  Moira swallowed deeply. She watched as Eve reached behind her, released her bra fastening, and let her bra fall to the floor.

  Eve was not sure where she was getting her confidence from; all she knew for certain was that she was with the person she wanted to be with.

  Moira’s eyes refilled with tears, as she confessed, “I feel a bit overwhelmed.”

  Eve nodded and tucked a curl of hair behind Moira’s ear.

  “Me too. But I want you so much, Moira.” As she said this, Eve fought back her own tears.

  Moira looked at Eve, kneeling in front of her, vulnerable and half-naked.

  “You can touch me if you want.” Eve blushed as she breathed the words of encouragement. Eve could smell the musk of whisky as Moira, a little hesitantly, leant forward and kissed Eve’s shoulder blade, moving her way slowly, cautiously, keeping half an eye on Eve’s expression for indicators of approval.

  As Moira kissed her, Eve took Moira’s head in her hands, caressing her hair, massaging, comforting, consoling, and reassuring with her touch. Eve drew in a breath as Moira closed her mouth around the tender flesh of her nipple, and a tongue flicked across as her lips formed a kiss as she withdrew.

  Tears fell down Moira’s cheeks.

  Eve wondered how many restless nights, unrequited loves, unfulfilled longing years this woman had waited to be fully herself, to express and act on her deepest needs.

  “Can I?” Eve whispered into Moira’s hair. Finding the base of Moira’s shirt, Eve eased it gently up.

  Moira slowly began to undo the buttons. She stopped halfway and looked at Eve. “They’re not like yours, I mean…I’m older than you. My body’s different.”

  “To be honest,” Eve said shyly as she glanced down at herself, “I was worried about what you would think about my body. Despite my apparent gay abandon, I’m not in the habit of stripping off.” Eve swallowed down the emotion rising in her as she spoke. “But I really fancy you.” She sat back on her heels and shook her head. “I guess I know now what all the fuss is about—you know, how someone can make you feel so…” Eve paused.

  Moira was slowly undoing the remaining buttons of her shirt.

  “You’re beautiful, Moira.” With these words, Eve kissed Moira’s neck and as she kissed she repeated, “So beautiful,” kissing her way along Moira’s collarbone.

  In response, Moira slowly slipped her shirt off her shoulders, allowing Eve to work her way down her chest, kissing Moira’s breasts, enveloped in her bra.

  Eve’s naked torso pressed against Moira’s bra as they kissed again. Tongues more urgently explored the insides of each other’s mouth. Eve slipped her hands behind Moira’s back and eased Moira from her chair down to the floor, to rest on top of her, at the same time uncatching her bra, releasing Moira’s breasts. Eve took the weight of Moira’s breasts, caressing them.

  “Oh, oh.” Moira deeply inhaled. “I…I, oh my God.”

  Eve’s body surged with pleasure, as she gasped, “You feel so good.”

  Without thinking, Eve moved on top of Moira, her lips searching out each breast. Eve could hear soft groans of pleasure.

  Moira’s hands fondled Eve’s bottom through her jeans, pulling Eve into her.

  Eve’s kisses made their way to Moira’s navel and the soft skin below. Eve paused and looked up to Moira, asking, “Moira, are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes.” Moira’s eyes fell once more to Eve’s breasts and with the backs of her fingers she caressed the soft flesh.

  Eve bit her bottom lip and swallowed, just finding the breath to say, “I want you so much, I’ve never wanted anyone like this, honestly Moira, I’ve never, I’ve never felt so…” Eve placed her hands over her face. She felt she would cry. Hold it together, Eve, hold it together.

  “I know, Eve.” Moira slipped her hands along Eve’s thighs. “I know.”

  Eve leant over Moira, kissing her, her soft warm body covering Moira’s. Purposefully, she released the top button of Moira’s trousers, unzipping her fly, and moving off her slightly, she freed Moira to lift her bottom, allowing Eve to ease her trousers and underwear down her legs.

  Moira reached up, pulling Eve on top of her, and as she did so, Eve felt Moira take a deep intake of breath. Eve kissed Moira deeply, their mouths working harmoniously to receive each other.

  Following the momentum begun with the kisses, Eve’s hands deftly explored Moira, her kisses caressing her torso, her breasts, her fingers tracing their way along the insides of her legs, pausing at the centre of Moira.

  Taking a long, deep breath, Moira let go, giving in and dissolving, allowing herself to be consumed by the sensation of Eve inside her. Images conjured themselves in Moira’s head. She was running, running hard through the woods, the ferns and leaves against her skin. She was running as if for her freedom, her chest beating hard, her body urging her forward.

  Eve’s fingers moved smoothly in a motion that mirrored the waves breaking on the shore of the loch outside—easy at first, then more intensely, sensing and responding to Moira’s need.

  Moira couldn’t stop herself running, she was at the edge of the wood, at the edge of the hillside, on the edge, the precipice where land meets sky, she knew she would fall and she was powerless to stop.

  Moira’s body began to tense, to tremble, as her breath caught on the peaks of the intensity of each sensation.


  Moira stepped from the edge and fell, below her the cool waters of the loch inviting her, bidding her come, and then she was flying, flying over the water, up, up into the sky, over the hills, away, free.

  Moira’s body shuddered and tensed for the last time, and then relaxed.

  “Oh my God.” Moira’s voice trembled as she lifted her fingers to her mouth.

  Eve whispered, “It’s okay, Moira, everything’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Can you stay a while?” Moira asked with a hopeful tone.

  Eve replied dreamily, “Yes, until sixish. My folks will want an early start.” She watched as the delicate hairs on Moira’s forearm stood erect at her touch.

  “Eve, with the women you’ve been with before, was I okay?”

  Eve knew that what she was feeling with Moira she had never felt before.

  “I mean, should I have…?” Moira glanced to Eve’s buttoned jeans.

  Eve lifted herself up onto her elbow, her naked torso pressing against the sitting room rug, the woven wool surface brushing against her skin.

  “I enjoyed giving you pleasure. To be honest, I tend more often to make love to the person I’m with, rather than them make love to me.” Eve gave a short shrug.

  Moira asked gently, “You like to feel in control?”

  Eve frowned. “Not really, it’s more I’m not very good at, well…letting go.” Feeling embarrassed at her unguarded honesty, Eve lay back.

  Moira wrapped her arms around her. “I see,” Moira said softly. Without warning, Moira scrambled to her feet, pulled a throw off the sofa, and wrapped it around herself. She disappeared into the kitchen, reappearing holding a couple of blankets. One she handed to Eve, the other she rolled under her arm.

  “I want to show you something,” Moira said as she gestured towards the garden.

  Eve heard the back door open. “Really? We’re going outside? I mean, when I came over it was really quite chilly. Moira?”

  Moira called through from the kitchen, “You’ll be fine. I promise I’ll keep you warm.”